P R 

SW4 



THE 



WEALTHY WIDOW; 

OR, 

THEY'RE BOTH TO BLAME. 
A COMEDY. 

IN THREE ACTS. 

H 



BY JOHN POOLE, Esq. 

AUTHOR OF 

PAUL PRY," "SIMPSON AND CO." "TRIBULATION," "MARRIED 
AND SINGLE," &c. <frc. 



FIRST PERFORMED 



AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY-LANE, 

MONDAY, OCTOBER 29th, 1827. 



LONDON : 

JOHN MILLER, 40, PALL-MALL, 



(Price 2s. 6d.) 



^3 W * 






SfiACKt'.LL AX!) BAVLIS, JOH.VSO.v'ii-f Ol'RT. 



ADVERTISEMENT, 



The Comedy of the Wealthy Widow is partly de- 
rived from a play, called Le Jeune Mar'u From the 
general plan of the latter I have deviated widely ; 
and since my alterations and additions may not be 
considered improvements, I must, injustice to the 
French author, declare, that of the original I have 
retained little but the outline of the scenes between 
the old wife and her young husband ; and two or 
three of the situations and points necessarily con- 
nected with them. For the rest — all those scenes in 
which Hardacre, Emily, and Trinket, are concerned, 
whether amongst themselves, or with the other cha- 
racters, and for the dialogue throughout, my own 
poor invention must bear the responsibility. 

This play was written before my friend Kenney's 
version of the same subject was acted at the Hay- 
market Theatre. Our encounter was not in the 
spirit of competition \ it was purely accidental : nor 
was it until we had actually completed our perfor- 
mances, that we were in the slightest degree con- 
scious of the identity of the leading incident each 
had selected for his ground-work. Had it been 
otherwise, I should, probably, have avoided a con- 
flict with so powerful an antagonist. It happens, 
unfortunately, that I have never seen the English 



VI ADVERTISEMENT. 



precursor of the Wealthy Widow, or, with this op- 
portunity of publishing a candid opinion upon the 
respective merits of the two pieces, I should inevi- 
tably have pronounced my own to be the best ; but 
being incapable of forming a judgment /or myself, I 
most willingly adopt that of the public, although it 
appears to incline the other way. For the positive 
demerits of this Comedy (and I doubt not they are 
manifold), I shall not presume to offer any defence ; 
but I must entreat for it some indulgence, in consi- 
deration of the disadvantage it has to contend with, 
in following a highly successful play upon the same 
fable ; by which ajirst impression has been produced, 
and the charm of novelty secured. 

J. P. 

Vh November, 1827. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Dangleton, , , . _ Mr Jone& 

Hardacre Mr. Dowton. 

FreeJ y • Mr. Hooper. 

Reckles? ' ' Mr. Wakefield. 

G]oom >" Mr.C.Jones. 

Wllliam • Mr.Honnor. 

Mrs. Dangleton Mrs d AVIsov 

Em[[ y • Miss Ellen Tree. 

Tnnket ■ Miss Love. 



i * 



A few passages, which occur in the following pages, are omitted 
in the play as it is now acted. 



ACT I. 

Scene I.— A Street. 
Enter Dangleton and Freely, meeting. 

Dang. Why, surely it is ! Ned Freely ! 

Freely. What! my old friend and school-fellow, 
Alfred Dangleton ! Fm glad to see you. 

Dang. 'Tis so many years since last we met, we 
must have much to relate to each other. 

Freely. Then to it at once, my boy. You were a 
wild, idle fellow at school ; how has fortune dealt 
with you since ? 

Dang. Variously, Ned. I was, as you say, a 
wild, idle fellow. My poor father, having but a 
scanty fortune to share amongst many children, 
would have had me taught the art of tinkering tin 
kettles rather than leave me without an occupation. 

Freely. And he was right. 

Dang. But so it was, Ned, I always had a 
strong bias towards the dolcefar niente — the delight 
of doing nothing— and for some time I enjoyed it. 
This was too happy a condition to endure long. My 
little patrimony was soon exhausted ; yet, as I was 
a pleasant fellow, could tell a good story, sing a 
good song, laugh at a bad joke, I was still a welcome 
guest at the table of many an old acquaintance. 

Freely. Aye ; an amateur Jack-Pudding. 

Dang. I did not much relish that, I own : so I 
tried to retrieve my independence by play ; fell into 
the hands of the worthy brotherhood of usurers, and 
pettifogging attornies ; and, in short, being a mere 
gentleman — that is to say, being incapable of any 
useful employment by which I might earn a dinner— 

B 



I at length resolved to look out for a rich wife ; and 
now, Ned, I am a reformed man — respectable — I am 
married. 

Freely, And your wife, you rogue ? I'll answer 
for it, she was one of the prettiest girls in England. 

Dang. O s yes, I dare say she was a very pretty — . 
girl. But, here : you may judge for yourself: here 
is a picture of her. (Skews a miniatured) 

Freely* Lovely, indeed! Why, you have mar- 
ried an angel ! Ah ! you are a happy dog ! 

Dang. Yes, I am a happy — dog. 

Freely. But for what reason is she painted in a 
dress so entirely out of the present fashion? 

Dang. A mere matter of fancy ; but — 'tis per- 
fectly correct, though. 

Freely. I don't understand you. 

Dang. Why — the fact is — she sat for this por- 
trait about thirty years ago — -just before her first 



marriage. 



Freely. Oh, oh ! — A widow !— Is she rich ? 

Dang. Haven't I told you I have married her? 
She has a fine income— there's her house — she has 
carriages, servants — who are all very civil to me — 
and a saddle-horse for my express use, which she 
allows me to ride almost whenever I have a mind to 
it. You smile, Freely ; yet, I assure you, notwith- 
standing the disparity of our ages, we are as happy 
together as possible. 

Freely. As possible — I firmly believe. Yet I 
trust you do nothing to compromise your dignity as 
a man. You are master in your own house ? 

Dang. In my own house they should soon find 
who was master— but — 'tis my wife's house, you 
know. 

Freely. (Aside.) Poor, rich, wretched Dangleton ! 

Dang. And you, Freely, have you made a for- 
tune? 

Freely. Not a fortune : not sufficient for splen- 
dour 5 yet amply so for independence and comfort. 

Dang. H?ng it, why don't you follow my example, 
and look out for some rich old widow ? You possess 



all the elements of success ; you are young, not ill- 
looking, and you tie a devilish good cloth. 

Freely. I'll consider your advice : but may I pe- ( 
rish if I act upon it, till Nature has stifled in my 
bosom those sentiments of love and liberty, which 
with her own gracious hand she planted there. 

Dang. That's prodigiously fine: no one would 
marry an old woman, if he could get a young one ; 
but there are pros and cons, and, on the whole, 
upon my life it is not half so bad as you'd imagine. 

Freely. No, Dangleton, when I do sacrifice my 
liberty, it shall be — 

Dang. Sacrifice one's liberty! No, no: in that 
respect, Ned, I may boast — 

Freely. Well, time presses, I must be gone. I am 
going in quest of a rich old widow, and on a matri- 
monial project, too ; but 'tis to ask her consent to 
my marriage with her lovely daughter, who, depen- 
dent on her mother's caprice, may come to me, 
perhaps, without a shilling. At six let us meet at 
a tavern, and renew our chat over a cool bottle. 

Dang. Not to-day. 

Freely. To-morrow, then? 

Dang. No, no: Mrs. Dangleton is so fond of 
my company, she does not approve of my dining 
from home. 

Freely. Well, then, I'll go home and dine with 
you. 

Dang. My dear fellow, women, you know, have 
odd whims ; and if there be one thing Mrs. Dan- 
gleton dislikes more than another, it is my bringing 
home strangers to dine. 

Freely. Strangers, I grant you ; but to see an 
old friend of her husband's, she'd be delighted. 

Dang. She would, she w T ould, but-— she must 
be prepared for it ; I never delight her of my own 
accord. Hearkee, Ned : you think me a very con- 
temptible fellow, I dare say, and I should be 
ashamed of myself if I had not the best of reasons 
for this. You must know that I am in a cursed 
scrape, and I must keep my wife in good humour, 
since 'tis she alone can help me out of it. 



Freely. Explain. 

Dang. Why, prior to my marriage, I had a sort 
of acquaintance with— 'tis dropt now. 

Freely. So, so ! 

Dang. You must have seen her at the opera? 
(Throwing himself into a dancing attitude.) A per- 
fect divinity ! So unlike Mrs. Dangleton ! Well, 
as a point of propriety, I broke off the connexion ; 
and wishing to do the thing handsomely, yet not 
having any money, I — I gave her my promissory 
note for a tolerably round sum. 

Freely. Does your wife know of this ? 

Dang. Not a syllable : if she did ! Now, 

though the note has been long overdue, the poor 
dear girl herself would not trouble me about it ; but, 
unfortunately, as she says, she has paid it away, and 
its present holder vows he'll play old Harry with me 
unless I pay it immediately. 

Freely. So you reckon on your wife's liberality 
for the supplies ? 

Dang. Exactly so. 

Freely. Well, I wish you success. But you have 
not told me who was the lady you married ? 

Dang. Haven't I ? 'Twas Mrs. Gathergold, the 
widow of the rich contractor. 

Freely. Mrs. Gathergold! whose daughter, 
Emily, was placed under the care of an aunt at 
Bath? 

Dang. The same ! 

Freely. My dear fellow, this is the luckiest thing 
imaginable ! Tis the very lady I was in search of. 

Dang. You are acquainted with Emily, then ? 

Freely. She is the sole object of my affections ! 
'Twas at the house of her late aunt I first beheld 
her. The poor old lady sanctioned my addresses; 
but, as I was about to quit England for a few 
months, it was resolved that our attachment should 
be kept a secret from Emily's mother till my 
return. 

Dang. Your secret has been faithfully preserved. 

Freely. But where is Emily ? 

Dang. In the house, at this moment. 



Freely. Has Mrs. Dangleton any other views for 
her settlement ? 

Dang. To say the truth, my wife does not inform 
me of all her projects ; but in this case I may safely 
venture to answer — No. 

Freely. Do you foresee any objection to my pre- 
tensions ? 

Dang. None ; on the contrary : to a mother who 
still aspires to admiration, a pretty young daughter is 
no very desirable companion ; so, no doubt, she will 
be glad to get the girl off her hands. 

Freely. You have made me the happiest man 
alive. You must instantly introduce me to Mrs. 
Dangleton. 

Dang. I have now a good excuse for so doing. 

Freely. You must broach the affair to her. 

Dang. Directly. 

Freely. Above all, you must procure me an imme- 
diate interview with my Emily. 

Dang. Nothing more easy : come. Yet one word. 
My Bessy — her name is Jezabel, but she prefers my 
calling her Bessy, 'tis more tender — my Bessy is a 
good old soul at bottom, but if this should happen 
to be one of her nervous days, on which occasions 
she is rather irritable, poor thing — 

Freely. O, if you think she'll receive me coldly— 

Dang. Not at all, not at all. But come ; and 
after two or three visits, you'll be as much at home 
in my wife's house — as I am, my boy. [Exeunt. 



Scene II. — A Room at Dangleton's. 

Enter Dangleton and Freely. 

Dang. Well, 'tis a devilish fine house, isn't it? 
Freely. Splendid. (A violent ringing of a bell.) 
But what's that ? 

Dang. That? 'tis merely a bell. 
Freely. A bell? why, 'tis a regular peal. 



Dang. Confound those lazy scoundrels of ser- 
vants - [Bings. 

Enter William. 

Don't you hear your lady's bell, sirrah ? 

Will. (Answers negligently. J Yes, Sir. 

Dang. Then, why don't you attend to it? 

Will. 'Tis not for me my lady's ringing, Sir ; but 
if I'm to be spoken to— I'll not be angry with him, 
poor fellow: there's a rod in pickle for him, as it is. 

[Exit William. 

Dang. Here comes Mrs. Trinket ; she is one of 
the prettiest girls in the world, yet, would you be- 
lieve it, my wife talks of dismissing her. 

Freely. Incredible 1 ha, ha, ha ! 

Enter Trinket. 

Dang. Come hither, Trinket, my dear. 

Trin. Hush ! don't "my dear" me, Sir. 

Dang. Haven't you heard your lady's bell ? 

Trin. Heard it? ha, ha, ha! O, yes, Sir, I've 
heard it this half hour ; but 'tis you she is ringing 
for. 

Dang. For me ! 

Trin. I wish you well through your troubles, Sir ! 
How could you do so ? 

Dang. Do what ? 

Trin. You know my lady gave you leave to go 
out a- walking for one hour, and you have been 
absent two. 

Dang. Psha, psha ! this mad-cap is jesting, and, 
hang me, but I'll punish her for it. {Looks cautiously 
about, and hastily lasses her.) 

Trin. For shame, Sir, I'll tell my mistress. 

Dang. No you won't, you little gipsy, for if you 
did — 

Trin. We should both lose our places. [Exit. 

Dang. This is a mere jest of that saucy girl's : 
however, I'll just step and see what Mrs. Dangleton 
desires. [Goini 



g. 



Enter Mrs. Dangleton. 

Mrs. Dang. {Holding up a watch to him.) Do 
you see this, Sir ? 

Dang. My dear, I—here's a stranger. 

Mrs. Dang. Whom have you brought here ? 

Dang. An old friend, an old school-fellow, Mr. 
Freely. Freely, Mrs. Dangleton. 

Mrs. Dang. {Curtseying very formally \) Sir. 

Freely. Madam, I take shame to myself for de- 
taining my friend from his more agreeable duties, 
and— 

Mrs. Dang. Sir, — Another attempt to renew ac- 
quaintance with his former wild associates. 

Freely. (To him.) Ask her to introduce me to 
Emily. 

Dang. By-and-bye; I am afraid she's nervous. 
I must first procure an invitation for you. Mrs. 
Dangleton, I — 

Mrs. Dang. Mrs. Dangleton! and in the pre- 
sence of a visitor ! 

Dang. Bessy, love, as our friend's — my friend's — 
stay in town will be of short duration, I was saying 
to him, that our — that is, your house, my love 

Mrs. Dang. You know, Alfred, my dear, we see 
so very little company. Devoted, as we are, to the 
society of each other, your friend would find my — 
our house, but a hum-drum sort of refuge. I hope, 
Mr. Freely, you'll do us the favour of calling to 
take leave before you quit town. 

Freely. Madam — (Aside.) Now will he allow me 
to be politely turned out of the house, without 
seeing my dear Emily ? I'll pay him for this. — To 
say the truth, Madam, my friend Dangleton has 
been so pressing in his invitation 

Dang. (To him.) Don't say that. 

Freely. That although I have another engage- 
ment on hand, I cannot resist his earnest solicitations 
to dine with him to-day. 

Dang. (Aside.) He'll ruin me. 



Mrs. Dang. (To Dang,) Mighty well, Sir ! and 
without consulting me ! Better at once convert my 
house into a tavern for the reception of all the 
town. — You forget, Alfred, my love, that to-day I 
expect Mr. Hardacre, on business of importance, and 
we shall be occupied the whole of the afternoon. 
(She retires up the stage.) 

Dang. True, dear. (To him.) I quite forgot 
that. (Aside.) Deuce a word have I heard of it 
till now. 

Freely. So then, you will not contrive an 
interview for me ? 

Dang. My dear fellow, we have chosen an 
unlucky moment. Women have strange whims 
sometimes ; we must humour the fair sex. Wait 
for me a few minutes at the corner of the square ; 
I'll make my escape, and rejoin you. 

Freely. Well, since it must be so 

Dang. You shall see Emily before the day is 
past, and in the mean time I'll break the business to 
my wife. But I must take her in the mood ; you 
understand. 

Freely, If you disappoint me, I shall act for 
myself. 

Dang. Never fear ; but leave us together now. 

Freely. Madam, your obedient servant. 

Mrs. Dang. Very happy, Sir, to have seen you. 
Alfred, love, ring the bell. 

[Exit Freely. 

Mrs. Dang. And pray, Mr. Dangleton, who, and 
what is this Mr. Freely ? 

Dang. As I told you : an old school-fellow, and 
a very excellent fellow too. (Aside.) I'll venture to 
mention the subject to her. The fact is, love, he 
has requested my assistance in an affair of 

Mrs. Dang. One word, Mr. Dangleton ; you know 
that at our marriage, I paid all your debts; no 
inconsiderable sum ; but if you imagine that my 
purse is to be at the service of any of your former 
profligate and ruined associates 

Dang. You mistake me. No, my sweet, the busi- 
ness is (Aside.) A little coaxing may be useful. 



9 

You have taken uncommon pains in the arrangement 
of your hair this morning. 

Mrs. Dang. Do you admire it, Alfred ? — Well, 
love, continue. 

Dang. The business, then, is this. Freely has 
a little love affair on his hands, and he has consulted 
me as to the 

Mrs. Dang. Has he indeed ! And you have the 
assurance to tell this to me. You, a married man ! 

Dang. But 

Mrs. Dang. Say no more it about, Sir. I desire 
that you will never bring him into my house again. 
I shall give strict orders that my doors be closed 
against him ; and the first among my servants who 
disobeys my commands, shall that instant be dis- 
charged from my service. 

Dang. (Aside.) My house — my servants ; — thus it 
ever is. But when I tell you that marriage is his 
object 

Mrs. Dang. There, there, there, say no more about 
it ; I forgive you. (Holds out her hand, which, with evi- 
dent reluctance, he kisses.) 

Dang. But is it true, my dear, you expect Mr. 
Hardacre in town to-day? 

Mrs. Dang. True, my dear! Yes, surely it is true. 

Dang. For what purpose, love ? 

Mrs. Dang. For nothing that concerns you, dear. 
Apropos, go and tell Emily I desire to see her. 

Dang. I fly. [Going. 

Mrs. Dang. There, there, there, fly, indeed ! The 
eagerness with which you seize every opportunity 
to quit my company 

Dang. Why, surely now 

Mrs. Dang. Ring the bell, Alfred. [He rings. 

Enter Trinket. 

Dang. (Approaching her.) Go, my dear, and tell 
your young lady 

Mrs. Dang. (Comes directly between them.) I can 
deliver my own orders. Go, Mrs. Pert, and tell 
Miss Emily I wish to see her. 



10 

Trin. Yes, Ma am.— Lord, she is as much alarmed 
about her young husband as if one were going to 
eat him. [Exit Trinket. 

Mrs. Dang. A foolish habit you have, Alfred, of 
calling ail the maids " my dear." 

Dang. A habit easily contracted by most young 
fellows, in our days of single blessed —(She looks 
angrily at him) our bachelor days 

Mrs. Dang. Enough, enough. 

Enter Emily. 

Emily. You sent for me, mamma ? 

Mrs. Dang. How often am I to desire you, miss, 
not to mamma me as you do ? A great girl like you, 
who is mistaken by all the world for my sister. 

Emily. Well, I won't again ; but don't be angry. 
When I call Mr. Dangleton papa, as I sometimes 
do in jest, he laughs, and says-— — 

Dang. (To her.} Be quiet 5 I have news for 
you. 

Mrs. Dang. What is that whispering about, Al- 
fred? 

Dang. Nothing, love 5 I was merely admiring 
Emily's drawing. 

Mrs. Dang. She has no need of your admiration. 

Emily. 'Tis a subject I have taken from the tale 
of January and May. 

Mrs. Dang. And pray, Miss, who suggested so 
ridiculous a subject to you ? 

Emily. Now, indeed, mamma, I didn't mean any 
thing to offend you ; for, see, 'tis just the reverse; 

'tis the husband who is so much older than 

Bless me ! what have I said ? 

Mrs. Dang. (Takes the drawing and tears it.) You 
don't improve in your drawing. This is the worst 
thing you have ever done 5 positively, 'tis not fit to 
be seen. 

Emily. (Aside, to Dang.) But what news have you 
for me ? 

Dang. (To Emily.) A certain Edward Freely is 
in town. 

Emily. No! (Observing Mrs. Dang., and recovering 



11 

herself.) There —I declare you have broken the point 
of my pencil. (To Mrs. D.) But have not you some- 
thing to say to me ? 

Mrs. Dang. I have only to tell you that I expect a 
visitor at dinner to-day ; — one, whose visit is partly 
intended to you — and to desire, therefore, that you 
will be more careful than you commonly are in your 
dress. 

Emily. (Eagerly.) Do you know him, then? 
(Dangleton makes a sign of silence to her.) 

Mrs. Dang. Know him! of course I know him. 
But of whom are you thinking ? 

Enter Trinket. 

Trin. A gentleman will be glad to see you, 
Ma'am. 

Mrs. Dang. Who is it ? 

Trin. One Mr. Hardacre, Ma'am ; a very old 
gentleman. 

Mrs. Dang. I didn't inquire the gentleman's age. 
I'll wait on him. (She looks at Dang, who is hamming 
a tune, and says emphatically) Tell the gentleman I'll 
wait on him. (Trinket goes off, and returns soon 
ajter.) Your indifference is evident, Sir ; there you 
stand like a statue ! If you entertained one grain of 
affection for me, you would exhibit something like 
jealousy or uneasiness when 

Dang. Not I, my love, though the Grand Turk 
himself— (Aside.) The murder will out one of these 
days. — But while you are engaged, I'll just take a 
turn or two about the square. May I, sweet ? 

Mrs. Dang. No, darling, I can't spare you. You 
must take a drive with me before dinner. In the 
mean time there are the butler's accounts for you to 
examine. Do it immediately, and I'll give you money 
to settle them. (Aside) That will keep him at home 
while I am engaged with Hardacre. 

[Trinket re-enters, and goes to the tvindow. 

Dang. (Aside) And there is poor Freely waiting for 
me in the street. 

Mrs. Dang. Come this way, Alfred ; go into the 



12 

library, do your work like a good boy, and you shall 
drive me to my milliner's ! 

Dang. Charming inducement ! 

Mrs. Dang. And, Emily, my love, remember what 
I have said to you. [Exeunt D. and Mrs. D. 

Emily. I will, mamma. No doubt she has been in- 
formed that Edward loves me ; he is the visitor she 
alludes to, and she intends to take me by surprise ! 

Trin. (At the window) How very odd ! 

Emily. What is it, Trinket? 

Trin. There is a gentleman impatiently walking 
up and down before the house, looking up at the 
windows, and taking out his watch twenty times in a 
minute. 

Emily. Pray come away from the window, then. 
*Tis very improper to stay there. Should it be my 
dear Edward. (Hums a tune, and with seeming un- 
consciousness approaches the window.) Ha ! 'tis he ! 

Trin. Yes, Miss, 'tis a he, sure enough. And, I 
declare, the very he who was here a little while ago 
with my master — I mean my mistress's husband. 

Emily. Here, with Mr. Dangleton ! then it must 
be as I suspect ; a good-natured plot, contrived by 
them to surprise me. That accounts for mamma's 
affected astonishment, and Mr. Dangleton's nods and 
winks. He's coming in. O Trinket! this is the 
first really happy moment I have experienced since 
our parting. 

Trin. Is it indeed, Miss? Now, as I am not in 
the secret, and did not know you had ever met, I 
can't say this is very edifying to me. 

Enter Freely. 

Freely. My dear Emily ! 

Emily. Edward! After a separation of fifteen long 
months we meet again. 

Freely. How anxiously have I looked forward to 
the hour of my return to England. The instant I 
set foot on shore, I posted to Bath, expecting to find 
you still residing there with your aunt. 1 no sooner 
received the melancholy intelligence that she was no 



13 

more, than I proceeded to London. Ah, my dear 
Emily, had she still lived, she, who sanctioned, who 
fostered our attachment, would have obtained your 
mother's consent to our union. 

Emily. Listen to me, Edward : I have never dared 
even mention our acquaintance to mamma. 

Trin. Good ! a little mystery in the case. 

Emily. For though my mamma is very fond of me, 
and very kind to me, yet she is rather — she's some- 
what — well, we won't speak of that. — But, fortunately 
for us, we have a friend at our side, who, I believe, has 
told her all about it. 

Freely. Indeed ! and who may that be ? 

Emily. I find you are acquainted with my new 
papa. 

Freely. And a pretty friend to trust to is your new 
papa. I have been waiting for him, according to his 
promise to rejoin me, till my patience is fairly ex- 
hausted 5 and a little while ago, when, after much 
hesitation, he ventured to introduce me to Mrs. Dan- 
gleton 

Emily. So, you have seen her then ? And you are the 
visitor she expects at dinner ? 

Freely. She expects me at dinner! may be so ; but 
I confess I should not have discovered the fact from 
the form of the invitation. 

Emily. Then she has not invited you ? 

Freely. Not pressingly. Yet it may be as you 
say. Dangleton undertook to intercede for us ; and 
I am willing to believe that his regard for an old 
friend, has overcome his dread of displeasing his 
wife, and that, to serve us, he has resolutely asserted 
the authority of a husband. 

Trin. Beg pardon for speaking, Sir. You have 
seen my mistress ? 

Freely. Yes. 

Trin, And you have seen Mr. Dangleton ? 

Freely. To be sure I have. 

Trin. And you talk of his authority ! Poor young 
gentleman, he dare not say his soul is his own. No, 
depend on it here is some mistake, and if you have 
nothing better to rely on than his influence with my 



14 

mistress, you need be in no hurry to bespeak a 
license. 

Freely. Then we must lose no time in bespeaking 
a post-chaise. I know that if you marry without 
Mrs. Dangleton's consent, you forfeit the property 
your father bequeathed to you : but I possess a for- 
tune sufficient for our moderate desires ; and let 
my Emily come to me, rich as she is in love and love- 
liness, I receive her with the dower of a princess. 

Emily. ( Takes his hand.) Edward !— But we must 
do nothing rashly. 

Freely. But tell me — has your mother ever at- 
tempted to influence your affections in favour of ano- 
ther. 

Emily. Never. 

Freely. Then my heart whispers me success. — 
But where is she ? 

Emily. She is engaged with a Mr. Hardacre, a 
gentleman who pretends to have some claim to a con- 
siderable portion of my property, respecting which 
a law-suit is now pending. By-the-bye, what sort of 
person is he, Trinket ? for I never saw him. 

Trin. Old, Miss, very old ; but he seems to be as 
good-tempered, nice an old gentleman, as an old 
gentleman can be. He asked me half a dozen ques- 
tions about you, Miss ; particularly whether you 
were handsome. 

Freely. What the deuce is that to him ? 

Trin. What, indeed ! but somehow I don't ima- 
gine he wanted the information as evidence in his 
suit at law. But, once more, Sir, about Mr. Dangle- 
ton : if you have no surer reliance than on his in- 
fluence with my lady 

Emily. Say no more, Trinket, or I shall be angry 
with you. I assure you, Edward, notwithstanding 
all this foolish girl has said, he can serve us if he will ; 
for my mamma is very fond of him — so fond, indeed, 
she will hardly suffer him to be out of her sight. 

Trin. And so careful of his health, that, at table, 
when she thinks he has taken as much wine as is 
good for him, away go the decanters ! 

Freely. No, no ; after all I am persuaded we are 



15 

indebted to him for breaking the matter to his 
wife. 

Enter Dangleton. 

Dang. Plague take this two-and-two^make-four 
job ! One might as well be under-clerk to a haber- 
dasher. 

Emily. Well, now you have been a good little 
papa, indeed. 

Freely. Dangleton, you have redeemed yourself 
in my opinion, and for what you have done I thank 
you — heartily. (Shakes his hand.) 

Dang. (Looking anxiously about.) Why, my — my 
dear fellow — don't talk so loud, for heaven's sake ! 
Didn't I tell you to wait for me in the square ? 

Freely. So I did till I was tired. 

Dang. But you must not remain — not just now — 
if Mrs. Dangleton should catch you — me, I mean. 
(To Freely.) 

Emily. How then! You have not acquainted 
mamma of Mr. Freely's addresses to me ? 

Dang. Hush — not so loud. (Aside.) If my wife 
should find him here after her positive orders to the 
contrary 

Enter William. 

Will. My mistress sent me to inquire whether 
you are examining the accounts she gave you, Sir ; 
but not finding you in the library 

Dang. I am, I am in the library ; go tell her so> 
there's a good fellow. [Exit William.] Confound 
her vigilance ! Now, Freely, my boy, pray go ; I 
have reasons for it which I'll explain to you pre- 
sently. I'll meet you within an hour. 

Freely. Well, Mr. Dangleton, if this be your 
friendship 

Dang. Don't reproach me — you are not married 
— you can't appreciate the necessity of these delicate 
little attentions to the wishes of a wife. Besides, I 



16 

must not thwart her to day— the promissory note, 
you know. 

Emily. Will you desert us, then ? 

Dang. No, my dear ; Freely was my earliest friend, 
and hang me but I'll be his father-in-law yet. (A 
bell rings.) That is for me. Go, Ned ; I can't ex- 
plain just now ; but — (Bell rings.) Coming, love. 

[Exit Dangle ton. 

Trin. You see, Sir, how little you have to expect 
from him. 

Freely. I'll see your mother at once, and declare 
my intentions. 

Trin. No, no ; you really had better not see my 
mistress abruptly. Go, Sir ; if necessary I'll manage 
another interview for you and Miss Emily before the 
day is past. (Whispers him.) And now I'll give you 
a hint : when you happen to meet Mrs. Dangleton 
again, don't be sparing of your flattery. She's 
younger and handsomer than her daughter — what you 
please, so you but make the dose strong enough. 

Freely. Your hint shall not be lost on me. 

Emily. In case of need may we trust to your dis- 
cretion, Trinket ? 

Trin. Try me, Miss ; but though I flatter myself 
I am capable of something better than cutting curl 
papers and trimming caps, you must not expect to 
find me, like a waiting-maid in a play, doing all sorts 
of extraordinary things. Discretion is my forte. I'll 
watch my opportunities, and serve you if I can, how 
I can, and when I can. 

Emily. Now leave me, Edward; I w T ould not 
have my mamma surprise us together till she is in- 
formed of our acquaintance. But does not the 
example of your friend make you tremble at the idea 
of marriage ? 

Freely. No, Emily ; for our hearts were drawn 
towards each other by pure affection; but with 
them — vanity on one side — interest on the other ! — 
How dearly is fortune purchased by the sacrifice of 
liberty ! 

Trin. 'Tis his own fault after all. Why need he 



17 

make such a slave of himself? If I were to many 
for money, though my husband had as much as the 
mint, I'd soon let him know who was master and 
mistress too. 

[Exit Freely on one side : Emily and 
Trinket on the other. 



Scene III. — Another Room at Dangleton's. 
Enter Hardacre and Mrs. Dangleton. 

Mrs. Dang. And now, Mr. Hardacre, I believe 
we understand each other ? 

Hard. Clearly, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Dang. You marry Emily, and settle that 
property upon her, together with ten thousand 
pounds. 

Hard. I marry Emily, and so forth. But do you 
think this arrangement will be perfectly agreeable 
to her ? 

Mrs. Dang. As a matter of course. 

Hard. As a matter of course ? Pray what did 
you say is her age ? 

Mrs. Dang^j Nineteen. 

Hard. Let me see : take nineteen from sixty-one 

and there remain Ha ! I am not so confident in 

the matter of course, and had rather receive the 
agreeable declaration from the lips of the young 
lady herself. 

Mrs. Dang. As you please ; but I know her well ; 
she is implicitly obedient to my will. Besides, what 
would become of her if this suit should be decided 
against her ? She has nothing else to depend on ; 
for my expences are so great that I'm sure I could 
do nothing for her. 

Hard. Well — I'm afraid the world will call this a 
foolish piece of business. When you married Mr. 
Dangleton they laughed, and said you were old 
enough to be his 

Mrs. Dang. Sir ! 

a 



18 

Hard. I mean, Ma'am, they said he was young 
enough to be- 



MrS. Dang. Pray, Mr. Hardacre- 



Hard. (Confused.) Upon my soul, Ma'am, I don't 
exactly remember what they said ; but I know I 
took your part, and said that you were right, and 
he was right ; (She endeavours to stop him), and de- 
clared you wore so astonishingly well, that few 
people would take you to be as old as you were. 
(Aside.) I flatter myself I have recovered from my 
blunder with admirable dexterity. 

Mrs. Dang. You ought to do as I did, Mr. Hard- 
acre ; I married for my own happiness, and despised 
the idle chatter of the world. 

Hard. There now, Ma'am, you are leading me to 
the point at which I am anxious to arrive. 1 would 
look before I leap : I am standing on the edge of 
the precipice, and, ere I throw myself over, 1 should 
be glad to profit by the experience of those who have 
already taken the plunge. 

Mrs. Dang. (Aside.) What horrible thing is he 
going to say next ! 

Hard. According to the calculation I have made, 
it appears there is a slight disparity between Miss 
Emily's age and mine ; now you serve as a case in 
point, considering that your age and ME 

Mrs. Dang. You have alluded to that before. 

Hard. Well, then, I would judge by comparison — 
in a word, do you live happily together ? 

Mrs. Dang. Live happily ! O, Mr. Hardacre, we 
are as happy as the days are long. 

Hard. As the days are long ! At what season of 
the year, Ma'am ? For there are December days, 
and they are plaguy short, you know. And do you 
think he loves you ? 

Mrs. Dang. He adores me. 

Hard. I thought so ; a convenient exaggeration. 
Adoration is to true love what bluster is to true 
courage : a noisy but inefficient substitute. However, 
if I marry at all, 'tis time I should marry now, so I'm 
resolved, at all hazards. 

Mrs. Dang. You will have no cause to repent. 



19 

As to the difference in your ages, some people think 
there is no harm in the preponderance being on the 
side of the husband. 

Hard. The people who think so, then, will have 
no cause to be dissatisfied, for they'll find a devilish 
lumping weight in my scale. But have you men- 
tioned this affair to Mr. Dangleton ? 

Mrs. Dang. (With indifference.) No. 

Hard. Then how do you know he will consent to 
it? 

Mrs. Dang. I never think it necessary to consult — 
he is so tenderly attached to me he always confirms, 
nay, he anticipates my wishes. 

Hard. Delightful! Now, should the intended 
Mrs. Hardacre prove but half so loving, so submissive, 
so obedient to me 

Mrs. Dang. Doubt it not, she'll make you an ex- 
cellent wife. 

Hard. Then there is no more to be said ; I'll in- 
stantly to my lawyer, desire him to transform his 
declarations, rejoinders, and appeals, into marriage 
articles, settlements, and 

Mrs. Dang. (Smiling.) Mr. Hardacre, is this your 
gallantry? Don't you desire to be presented to 
Emily before you go ? You exhibit but little of the 
impatience of a lover. 

Hard. My good lady, I am just turned of sixty- 
one, and having waited all these years for a wife, I 
can easily contrive to wait one hour longer. (A tap 
at the door heard.) What's that ? 

Mrs. Dang. Tis only my little Alfred. 

Hard. Your little Alfred 1 I thought Emily was 
your only child ? 

Mrs. Dang. 'Tis Mr. Dangleton : that is one of 
my pet names for him . You may come in , love. Say 
nothing of this business to him at present : I have my 
reasons for it. 

Enter Dangleton, 

Dang. Ah! Mr. Hardacre, you are welcome to 
London. I am very glad to see you. 



W 

Hard. I am 'happy to see you, and to find yon 
looking so well. 

Dang. Am I ? — Gad ! I'm not very well ; I want 
air — exercise ! — A few days shooting with you, now, 
Mr. Hardacre, and two or three other jolly dogs like 
ourselves — for I've heard that in your youth you 
were one of us, old sly-boots. 

Mrs. Dang. Alfred ! 

Dang. Ahem ! 

Hard. And could be, still, Mr. Dangleton. I am 
hale, hearty, good-humoured ; and though I'm an 
old fellow, with a touch of the gout, yet, thanks to 
country air, my horses, my dogs, and my gun, 
I'll bet you a hamper of claret, that if you'll make 
up a party of a dozen of your town blades this 
evening, I'll see the best man among you under the 
table. 

Mrs. Dang. Fie, Mr. Hardacre, my Alfred has 
given up all such doings : he is now a reformed man. 

Hard. (Aside.) And a repenting onej or that look 
belies him. 

Mrs. Dang. Besides, remember, you dine with me 
— with us — to-day. 

Bard. True. Well, we must be content with a 
chat over a quiet bottle : you must tell me all the 
news of the town — what is going on in the world. 

Dang. Hang me if 1 know, for,, since my mar- 
riage, I have scarcely seen a soul. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I 
might as well have lived in a hen-coop. — Ahem ! 

Hard. Well, for the present, good folks, I leave 
you ; 'tis hardly considerate to interrupt the billing 
and cooing of a young — I mean a newly married 
couple. 

Mrs. Dang. Pet and I are going to take a drive ; 
but we shall return soon. 

Hard. Within an hour I'll rejoin you. (Looking 
at them.) Twenty-five and fifty : nothing absolutely 
celestial about that ; but when it shall come to forty- 
five and seventy — ! — Well, if I'm to marry, I must 
reflect. [Exit. 

Mrs. Dang. Have you examined the bills, Alfred? 

Dang. Yes, dear. 



Mrs. Dang. There's a good child. Ring the bell. 
(He rings.) 

Dang. What have I been ringing for ? 

Mrs. Da?ig. What can it signify ? 

Dang. Apropos, there is one item which ought to 
be charged to your private account, considering you 
have all the amusement to yourself. 

Mrs. Da?ig. And which is that ? 

Dang. Ha! ha! ha! Thirty shillings for repair- 
ing your broken bells. 

Mrs. Dang. Mr. Dangleton ! 

Dang. (Aside.) I dare not even to attempt to be 
funny. 

Enter William. 

Mrs. Dang. I ordered the cabriolet : is it at the 
door? 

Will. Yes, Ma'am. 

Dang. Now must I go dangling about with her 
again. Not a moment's liberty or pleasure. — My 
love, you — youll find it very cold. Hadn't we 
better take the close carriage ? 

Mrs. Dang. Cold, Sir! with a thermometer at 
seventy! Are you ashamed to be seen in public 
with me? (To William). Let the head of the 
cabriolet be thrown back — quite back. (To Dangle- 
ton). My reticule. 

Dang. Your lady's reticule. (To William.) 

Will. 'Twas to you, Sir, my lady spoke. 

[Exit William. 

Mrs. Dang. (Putting on one glove, drops the other.) 
My glove, my glove, Alfred, my glove. 

Dang. (Aside.) If I could but escape to meet my 
cursed creditor and obtain a little longer delay ! 

Mrs* Dang. What makes you so thoughtful, 
Alfred ? 

Dang. Nothing. Where are we going, Bessy ? 

Airs. Dang. To make some little purchases at my 
milliners. I want you to choose a bonnet for me. 
You — you must make me a present of it, and insist 
on paying for it yourself. You understand. 



22 

Dang. Pay for it ? I ! 

Mrs. Dang. (Aside). What can he do with all the 
money I allow him ! — How much money have you 
got? 

Lang. (Examining his purse.) A half-crown and a 
sixpence, love. 

Mrs. Dang. Alfred, Alfred ! Well, I won't scold 
you now. Here, you can take my purse — and give 
it to me again when we return. — Uph ! The heat 
is insupportable. Carry this, dear. (Gives him her 
shawl.) 

Dang. A pleasant appendage in the dog-days. 

[Exeunt. 



END OF THE FIliST ACT. 



23 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — At Dangleton's. A Library. 

Enter Hard acre. 

Hard. (Speaking off.) Very well, very well ; I'll 
wait their return. (Sits). I shall consider myself 
fortunate, if the fatigues of this morning do not 
bring on a fit of the gout. 'Twould be rather incon- 
venient at the very moment I am about to throw 
myself at the feet of my intended. When I told 
my lawyer that I was come to town to marry a 
young wife, he laughed outright : there was a special 
pleader in the room, and so did he. I am afraid 
there must be something unusually ridiculous in 
what I have undertaken, that could make a special 
pleader laugh. However, I have gone too far to 
recede. But the most trying part of the business is 
to come : the first interview, the courtship, the de- 
claration. I doubt I shall make but awkward work 
of it, so long have I been out of practice in affairs 
of the heart. Ha! here comes a devilish pretty 
girl; the same I saw this morning; one of the 
servants, I suppose. 'Gad, I'll rehearse the scene 
with her. 

Enter Trinket. 

Come hither, my little Venus. 

Trin. Trinket, if it is the same thing to you, Sir. 

Hard. Well, then, Trinket, you must do me a 
service. 

Trin. Lord! what a good-natured, funny old 
gentleman it is. 

Hard. In the first place, Trinket, you must give 
me a little piece of information. I know that you 



. 24 

house-maids are always in the family secrets, there- 
fore 

Trin. House-maid! upon my word! I beg you 
will understand I am lady's-maid ; I am no house- 
maid, Sir. 

Hard. Well, well, my dear, don't be angry, I 
didn't mean to offend you. But, tell me, is your 
young mistress's heart engaged ? 

Trin. (Aside.) Oh, ho ! A spy, set to work by my 
old mistress. — Why do you ask me, Sir ? what should 
house-maids know about hearts ? 

Hard. Come, come, I have particular reasons for 
the inquiry. 

Trin. (Aside.) As I suspect; he shall not know 
the truth from me. — Why, then, Sir, it is not. 

Hard. (Aside.) So far, then, I am safe. — What is 
your age ? 

Trin. About the same as Miss Emily's — nineteen. 

Hard. (Aside.) This is the very thing. The sen- 
timents of one young woman of nineteen are pretty 

much like those of another so Now, Trinket, 

take this (gives her a guinea), and tell me, sincerely, 
what should you think of me for a husband ? 

Trin. Do you mean to take me at my word, and 
that I should marry you ? 

Hard. By no means, my dear. 

Trin. In that case, Sir, I think you'd make a very 
good sort of a husband, and that any woman might 
be happy with you. 

Hard. I did not give you that guinea as a bribe 
to flatter me, you rogue. 

Trin. What reason can you have for supposing I 
flatter you? 

Hard. (Aside.) Sixty-one tolerably cogent reasons. 
Now, come, here is another guinea for the truth. 
Do you really, really mean, that any woman might 
be happy with me ? 

Trin. I do, indeed, Sir; — I mean any old woman. 

Hard. (Aside.) Humph ! I might as well have let 
the question rest, for the amendment is a devilish 
dear one at a guinea. — But I'm speaking of a young 
woman. You are a sharp, clever wench, and I 



25 

should like to have your opinion, honestly and sin- 
cerely. Would it be very difficult for a young girl 
to love aa old fellow of sixty ? 

Trin. An old fellow of sixty ! I don't know that 
it would be very difficult, but I think she would find 
it much easier, if you could contrive to split him 
into two young fellows of thirty. Do you wish for 
another guinea's worth, Sir ? Ha, ha, ha ! 

Hard. Not at present; you have supplied me 
with a stock of knowledge which, with tolerable 
economy, will serve me a month. 



Enter Mrs. Dangleton and Dangleton. He has 
a bonnet-box in his hand, and several parcels in his 
pockets. 

Mrs. Dang. {Speaking as she enters.) I'll not be 
contradicted, Alfred ; I watched you, Sir, and you 
never shall go with me to my milliner's again. 

Dang. You are mistaken, my love, 'twas merely 
her cap I was admiring. 

Mrs. Dang. Ah, Mr. Hardacre! so soon re- 
turned ! Your impatience is easily to be accounted 
for ? You have seen Emily ? 

Hard. No, Madam ; I have waited to be presented 
by you. I had rather you would prepare the way 
for me. 

Mrs. Dang. "Where is Miss Emily ? 

Trin. Waiting for me to assist her to dress, 
Ma'am. 

M?"s. Dang. Then what were you doing here ? 

Trin. Ma'am, I only — 

Mrs. Dang. Don't answer me. Go to her imme- 
diately, and tell her I wish to see her. 

Dang. What am I to do with all these things, 
Bessy ? 

Mrs. Dang. I declare, Alfred, you have no more 
intelligence than an infant. Why give them to 
Trinket, to be sure. 

Trin. {To Dang.) I shall never be able to carry 
them all at once, Sir. 

E 



26 

Dang. I thought so, too, till I was obliged. 

[He gives the parcels to Trinket. 

Mrs. Dang. Well, Mr. Hardacre, have you seen 
your attorney ? 

Hard. I have ; and all matters are in a fair train 
for an agreeable settlement; at least, so far as the 
lawyers can assist me. But that is parchment, Mrs. 
Dangleton, mere parchment! and Cupid, I fear, 
does not wing his arrows with parchment. 

Mrs. Dang. Cupid, psha ! Emily has received a 
sound education, she has no such idle nonsense in 
her head ; you will find her a very reasonable girl. 

Hard. Well, at my age, 'twould be folly to think 
of inspiring a very desperate passion ; and, perhaps, 
after all, a reasonable woman would be the best wife 
for me. 

Dang. (To Trinket.) There, go — tell Emily the 
law-suit is terminated — that has put her mother into 
good-humour, and I shall at once speak to her in 
favour of Freely. [Exit Trinket. 

Mrs. Dang. Alfred, Alfred. 

Dang. I was telling Trinket to put those parcels 
away carefully. Mr. Hardacre, my wife, in the 
course of our drive, informed me of an event which 
has given me heart-felt satisfaction. I rejoice at it 
for Emily's sake. 

Hard. And I thank you, Mr. Dangleton, for my 
own. 

Dang,, Of course, she has warmly expressed her 
gratitude to you for leaving her in quiet possession 
of her little property, for it happens that at this very 
moment there is 

Hard. You are mistaken ; I have not yet had the 
pleasure of seeing the young lady. 

Dang. No ! then I can tell you, you will see one 
of the prettiest girls — (Mrs. Dang, looks angrily at 
him.) — the very counterpart of my Bessy. 

Hard. {Aside.) The devil she is ! 

Dang. Just what the rose-bud is to the rose. 
{Aside.) I must keep her in good humour. 

Hard. But has Mrs. Dangleton told you no 
more of our arrangements than that? 



Mrs. Dang. No, no - y there was no occasion 
for it. 

Dang. Well, love, to the point. I was thinking 
that since she is now, as it were, independent, we 
ought to consider about settling her in the world. 
Don't you agree with me, Mr. Hardacre ? 

Hard. Perfectly. 

Mrs. Dang. And you have been thinking of that ? 
Upon my word, you are astonishingly clever ! It has 
already been thought of. 

Dang. That's lucky ; for I have carried my pa- 
ternal consideration so far, that I have thought of 
the very husband for her. 

Mrs. Dang. Have you? That point is already 
decided on. 

Dang. Very suddenly, then, for it was only this 
morning 

Mrs. Dang. Pray, Alfred, don't talk so much ; 
you positively distract me. She will shortly be mar- 
ried to Mr. Hardacre. 

Dang . To Mr. Hardacre ! Pooh ! pooh ! You 
are joking! Why, surely, you don't mean to marry 
Emily — seriously ? 

Hard. Very seriously ; for hang me, Mr. Dangle- 
ton, if I look upon it as a joke. 

Dang. Well, then, all that I shall say upon the 
subject is 

Mrs. Dang. And what shall you say ? 

Dang. Why, my dear— that — in short — I am very 
much astonished at it. 

Hard. And, to say the truth, so am I. 

Dang. {Aside.) Poor Freely! his hopes are at 
an end. 

Hard. However, the plagues of love are preferable 
to the plagues of law ; and by marrying I get rid of 
a chancery-suit. 

Dang. Have you considered the disparity of your 
ages? 

Hard. Deeply ; but with so enticing an ex- 
ample before me 

Dang. A-hem! 



28 

Hard, Besides, there is no true happiness but in 
the marriage state ; and I have been thinking so — for 
these last forty years. 

Enter William. 

Will. Mr. Freely desires to see you, Sir. 

Dang. (Aside.) He comes at a blessed time. 

Mrs. Dang. Notwithstanding my objections, 
then— 

Dang. My love, 'tis no fault of mine if— (Aside.) 
I'll go tell him of this cursed arrangement, and put 
him out of his misery at once, poor fellow.- — My 
dear, he has something to communicate to me in 
private : I'll just step down to him. 

Mrs. Dang. What can he have to say to you, 
Sir, to which I may not be a party? (To Servant.) 
Request Mr. Freely to walk up. [Exit Servant. 

Dang. (Aside. ) Now, here will be a pretty dis- 
covery. 

Hard. Freely, did you say ? Whose father died at 
Barbadoes ? 

Dam. The same. 

Hard. I knew him well, and shall be glad to make 
an acquaintance with the son. I have heard him 
highly spoken of. 

Mrs. Dang. You don't know the young men of 
the present day, Mr. Hardacre. 

Hard. Ahem ! They are very different from 
those of our time, I dare say. 

Enter Freely. 

Freely. Upon my word, Dangle ton, you are a 
pretty fellow, at keeping your appointments. {Seeing 
Mrs. Dang.) Mrs. Dangleton, the devil ! — (Boivs.) 
Madam 

Mrs. Dang. Sir. — So, Dangleton had made an 
appointment with you ? 

Freely. (Aside.) I have not forgotten Trinket's 
advice. — He had, Madam ; but as I met my enviable 
friend in your company, I can easily excuse his for- 
getting me. 



29 

Mrs. Dang. Sir. (Curtsies.) He is civil enough. 

Freely. The fact is, Madam— 

Dang. (Interrupting him.) Freely, here is a gentle- 
man who is desirous of your acquaintance — Mr. 
Hardacre. 

Hard. I am happy to shake you by the hand, Sir ; 
I knew your good father welL 

Freely. Sir, — I recollect your name now $ I have 
heard him speak of you. I believe you were at 
school together, about half a century ago. 

Hard. Yes, Sir, it was about — as lately as that. 
But I wish you would employ some other mode of 
dating events, than by half centuries ; for you must 
know, that just at this moment I — — 

Freely. Ten thousand pardons ; I assure you I 
did not intend to speak strictly to a year or two. 
(To Dang.) Where is Emily ? 

Dang. Hush ! 

Mrs. Dang, Might I inquire, Sir, to what we are 
indebted for the pleasure of seeing you so soon 
again ? 

Freely. Has not my friend Dangleton informed 
you, Madam ? He promised me that 

Dang. (To him.) There has been no opportunity. 

Freely. (To him.) Has she been nervous again? 
Why, then, Ma'am, I beg you will allow me to speak 
for myself. ' 

Dang. 'Tis of no use, my dear fellow; your case 
is hopeless. (Makes a sign towards Hardacre?) Freely 
is preparing to leave town, love, and — (to him) 'tis 
the wisest step you can take— and, he desires your 
permission to visit us occasionally prior to his de- 
parture. That's all. 

Freely. All! 

Mrs. Dang. (Coldly.) O, Sir, you do us much 
honour. 

Hard. And allow me, Mrs. Dangleton — as one of 
the family— to join in the invitation. 

Freely. One of the family! I did not know he 
was a relation. 

Dang. A precious relation you'll find him. 

Freely. What is the meaning of all this ?— But,' 



30 

Madam, although that I might occasionally be a 
witness to my friend's — felicity— was the first mo- 
tive of my wish — ahem ! 

Mrs. Dang. (Curtsies.) Really, Sir 

Freely. The next was, that having known your late 
sister at Bath, at whose house I sometimes saw Miss 
Emily, — whose lovely features I instantly recognised 
in those of her amiable mother 

Hard. (Aside.) I hope with all my heart, that's a lie. 

Mrs. Dang. Upon my word, Sir, you overpower 
me with your politeness. 

Freely. (Aside.) She takes it, and I'm safe. I say, 
Ma'am, that having known 

Mrs. Dang. Pray, Sir, say no more : your having 
been received by my poor sister is sufficient recom- 
mendation. I shall always be delighted to see you. 
(To Dang.) If all your acquaintance were like him, 
n deed ! You have seen Emily, then ? 

Freely. I have had that happiness. 

Mrs. Dang. You will be delighted to hear that 
she is about to be married. 

Freely. Married ! 

Mrs. Dang. To Mr. Hardacre. 

Freely. Mr. Hardacre ! Why, surely, not this Mr. 
Hardacre ? 

Hard. Yes, Sir : to this undeniable and identical 
Mr. Hardacre. Why, what the deuce are they all 
so astonished at ? 

Freely. Really, the suddenness of this announce- 
ment — and you, Dangleton, to allow 

Dang. My dear fellow, what could I do ? 

Freely. Of course, Ma'am, the young lady's in- 
clinations have been consulted, and she has con- 
sented to 

Mrs. Dang. May I be permitted to remind you 
that you are touching upon family affairs, Mr. 
Freely ? 

Freely. (Aside.) I shall go wild! And Dangleton 
has not the spirit to assist me. 

Mrs. Dang. See, here comes my daughter. What 
do you think of her ? 

Hard. So well, that I shall be perfectly satisfied 



81 



Enter Emily, followed by Trinket. 

Emily. (To Trin.) Mr. Freely here! Who could 
have contrived this for us ? 

Mrs. Dang. Emily, my love, this gentleman is 
Mr. Hardacre, whom, notwithstanding our late dis- 
sensions, I desire you will consider as an old friend 
— a very old friend of the family. 

Hard. (To Mrs. Dang.) You need not insist so 
strongly upon that point : I dare say she has pene- 
tration sufficient to discover that for herself. (To 
Emily.) Miss, I — Madam — I am, as your good 

mother has truly said — I Now I wonder what is 

the cause of this sudden fit of timidity ? 

Mrs. Dang. (To Emily.) Is the girl bewildered ! 
Have you nothing to reply ? 

Emily. To what? 

Trin. (Aside.) To what he intended to say, I sup- 
pose. 

Emily. I have been informed of Mr. Hardacre's 
generous abandonment of his claim, for which he 
may be assured of my gratitude. 

Mrs. Dang. (Pointedly.) You will henceforth con- 
sider him as your best, your warmest friend; but the 
abandonment of his claim is not unconditional. 

Freely. (Aside.) Could I say but one word to her ! 

Hard, (to Mrs. Dang.) Now leave us together; I 
dare say I shall be bolder when there is nobody by. 

Mrs. Dang. Now, Emily, I leave you with Mr. 
Hardacre ; he has a communication to make of the 
deepest importance to you. 

Emily. (Aside.) To be tormented about that tire- 
some law-suit, when I am so anxious to speak to 
Edward. 

Triii. I suspect there is more love than law in 
the business. 

Mrs. Dang. (To Emily.) By the bye, here is a 
gentleman, who tells me you have met at Bath ? 

Emily. Yes, Mr. Freely and I 

Mrs. Dang. And do you really perceive a resem- 
blance, Mr. Freely? 



32 

Freely. No sisters were ever more alike. {Aside.) I 
am in agonies. 

Mrs. Dang. Sisters ! He, he, he ! — If you are 
unengaged to-day, perhaps you will take dinner with 
us, and renew acquaintance with my sister. 

Freely. Madam, I shall be delighted. 

Emily. (Joyfully.) O, Trinket ! 

Dang. (Aside.) 'Gad, he has done for himself what 
I could not have done for him. 

Mrs. Dang. Emily, you will consider what Mr. 
Hardacre shall say to you as my command. Now, 
Mr. Freely. 

Freely. Madam. (Gives his arm. Aside to Dang.) 
Go put her on her guard — whisper her to reject 
him at all hazards. 

Dang. I will, I will. [Going towards Emily. 

Mrs. Dang. Come, Alfred, come. 

Dang. I'll follow you presently, Bessy. 

Mrs. Dang. Do you hear me, Alfred ? Lead the 
way to the drawing-room. 

Dang. (As replying to a sign of impatience from 
Freely?) I must just lead the way to the drawing- 
room, you know. 

[Exeunt Dang., Mrs. Dang., and Freely. 

Trin. Now, to know what this very important 
affair is about. 

Emily. I am now certain that mamma has been 
acquainted with it all along, and has merely intended 
a pleasant surprise for me. 

[Hardacre brings down chairs. 

Hard. A-hem ! Now, Miss Emily, that we are 

alone (Sees Trinket.) So, Mrs. Trinket, you 

are there! You need'nt wait. 

Trin. Never mind me, Sir, 'tis no trouble. 

Hard. You may go, Trinket ; your young lady 
is quite safe under my protection : as you heard your 
mistress declare, I am a friend of the family. 

Trin. Provoking ! — My mistress's words were, " A 
very old friend," Sir, — old ; (half aside) and spite 
of the saying, he'd be nothing the worse for a new 
face. (Hardacre motions her off.) Surely, Sir, you 
are too polite to turn a lady out of the room. 



3S 

Hard. I am one of the politest men existing. 
[He rises, offers his arm to Trinket, leads her with 
much ceremony across the stage, and boivs her off. 

Emily. (Suppressing a laugh.) What an extraor- 
dinary old gentleman ! 

Hard. Hem ! (Sits.) Miss Emily, the subject of 

the business which (Starts.) Confound the 

gout! that is an ominous twinge at the outset of a 
tender declaration. 

Emily. (Aside.) What can be the cause of his hesi- 
tation, in speaking about a mere matter of business? 
If he were not old enough to be my grandfather, one 
would fancy he was going to make love to me. — I am 
sure, Sir, I am attributing your hesitation to its true 
cause, when I say that, to a generous mind, it is 
always painful to allude to the obligations it may 
have conferred. But pray speak, Sir; I am pre- 
pared to listen to you with attention and respect. 

Hard. (Aside.) Respect ; I wish it had been any 
other word. — Your frankness, Miss Emily, your evi- 
dent good sense have inspired me with confidence ; 
and I will speak to you with candour and sincerity. 
Will you vouchsafe to answer in the same spirit ? 

Emily. I always do, Sir. 

Hard. Your mother said, and she said truly, that 
the communication I have to make is one of the 
deepest importance to you ; it may affect the happi- 
ness of your future life — (Aside, as if attacked by a 
twinge of the gout) — four or five years of it, or so. 

Emily. (Aside.) This is a very solemn introduc- 
tion to the mere business of a law-suit. 

Hard. To the property bequeathed to you by 
your late father, I have a claim established by the 
clearest evidence ; I abandon my claim ; but — with 
one condition. 

Emily \ So Mrs. Dangleton apprized me, Sir : 
explain it. 

Hard. (Aside.) Explain it ! Ah ! now comes the 
tug : but courage, old Edward Hardacre, dashing 
Neddy, as you were called in your youth ! — That 
condition, Miss Emily, is—marriage. 

Emily. Marriage! 



m 

Hard. Marriage. But there shall be exercised no 
tyrannical controul over your inclinations, no 
mother's commands shall be allowed to sway them : 
no ; to any such proceeding I shall object. 

Emily. Really, Sir, this is so unexpected, I 

Hard. One word more, Miss Emily. I had rather 
your mother had undertaken the task of commu- 
nicating this affair to you ; but since she has insisted 
on leaving it to me, I — you — hem ! (Aside.) But 
come ; since in all things honesty is the best policy, 
such therefore must it be in affairs of love.— You 
have promised to answer me with sincerity. 

Emily. I have, Sir. 

Hard. Could you love — could you be happy 
with ? 

Emily. (With considerable anxiety and hesitation.) 
Whom ? 

Hard. One who is at — (About to kneel but unobserved 
by her.) — I must not venture that, for it might not be 
so easy to get up again.— One who — (Aside.) — I'll 
break it to her delicately — by degrees. — One who is 
in the house at this moment — anxious and trembling 
for a favourable result to his hopes. 

Emily. Then 'tis so! are you serious, Sir? and is 
this with my mother's consent and approbation? 

Hard. Strictly. 

Emily. Then she has known it all along. 

Hard. From the beginning. 

Emily. And, as I suspected, she planned this 
happy surprise for me ? 

Hard. She did— she did. But do you, really, and 
of your own freewill, consent to the proposal. 

Emily. Consent to it ! Oh ! Sir, you have ren- 
dered me the happiest of women. Oh ! Mr. Hard- 
acre, these are tears of joy I shed. (Kisses his hand.) 
Dear Edward, what happiness will be ours. 

Hard. Dear Edward ! (Hardacre iveeps.) 

Emily. And was it you who persuaded my mother 
to this, Sir ? 

Hard. I did, lovely Emily. 

Emily, Oh! Sir, I shall henceforth love you — as a 
father. 



35 

Hard. A fa— (Aside.) Well, every thing must 
have a beginning, and this is mere, much more, than 
I was warranted in anticipating. But bless her, I'll 
not deceive her : I'll tell her fairly all she has to ex- 
pect, though she reject me on the instant.— (To her.) 
Have you considered well? Is it no objection that 
your intended husband is — (Aside.) I need nt ruin 
my own cause neither.— That he is a few years — 
several years, older than yourself? 

Emily. None, Sir ; on the contrary: for from what 
I have observed at home, I am convinced 'tis pro- 
per, 'tis best it should be so. 

Hard. And are you willing to relinquish the plea- 
sures and gaieties of a town life, for a quiet retreat 
in the country ? 

Emily. 'Tis that I have always desired. 

Hard. One last question. Now, suppose that 
your — Edward — suffering now and then under an at- 
tack of rheumatism or gout — such misfortunes will 
occur — suppose he should be troublesome, peevish, 
morose ? 

Emily. By gentle attention I'll endeavour to 
soothe his pangs ; I will allay the excusable irrita- 
tion of his temper by good humour. 

Hard. Charming, charming ! Then I may inform 
Mrs. Dangleton, that you fully and freely consent to 
this marriage ? 

Emily. And you may add, joyfully, too. 

Hard. Lovely, divine Emiiy, you have — I am in 
ecstacies — I- — (Aside.) I'd best withdraw, or I shall 
make a fool of myself. Blockhead that I was for 
doubting my success ! 'Gad, your physiologists have 
been blundering all this time, and sixty-one is the 
prime of life after all. 

[As he goes off, he casts a tender look at Emily, which 
is checked by a tivinge of the gout. 

{Exit Hard ac re. 

Emily. What a strange, comical old gentleman it 
is. But, so kind as he has been in managing this affair 
with mamma, I ought not to laugh at him. Here 
comes Edward ; how delighted he will be ! 



36 



Enter D an glet on and Freely. 

Dang. But, my dear fellow, what would you have 
me do? 

Freely. You have taught me to expect but little 
from you. My dear Emily, with what impatience 
have I waited the termination of your conference 
with that old 

Emily. Speak not unkindly of him, Edward ; he 
has proved himself an excellent friend. Thanks to 
him, 'tis all settled. 

Freely. Settled ! Then you have rejected the pro- 
posal ? 

Emily. Rejected it ! You know me too well to 
imagine so. Oh, Edward, when this morning we 
met in anxiety and in doubt, we little expected so 
sudden, so happy a change in our fortunes. 

Dang. Explain. 

Emily. I have, as you might have expected, given 
my full consent, and he has now gone to acquaint 
mamma with it. 

Freely. Then you have consented to marry him? 

Emily. Him ! Of whom are you speaking ? 

Freely. Of one whom it would be too ridiculous to 
call a rival : old, old, old Mr. Hardacre. 

Dang. Ay, old Edward Hardacre, whom your 
mother sent for to town to marry you. 

Emily. Mercy on me ! What have I done ? A 
light breaks in upon me. Edward! — Country re- 
treat ! several years older ! Answer me one ques- 
tion, Edward; are you peevish and morose when you 
are afflicted with the gout? 

Freely. I afflicted with the gout ! This is mere 
trifling. 

Emily. There has been some fatal misunderstand- 
ing : I thought it was for you he was pleading ; I 
never should have suspected it was for himself; and 
under that delusion, I have permitted him to ac- 
quaint mamma, that I (bursting into teai*s) joyfully ac- 
cede to the proposal. 

Freely. Now, Mr. Dajigleton ■ 



s? 

Dang. Ay, " Now, Mr. Dangleton,"— I am to 
bear the blame of Emily's mistake. 

Freely. Had you but remained, and given her the 
slightest hint— 

Dang. And so I intended to do : zounds, is it my 
fault that my wife would not let me? 

Freely, Not let you ! If you had but the spirit of a 
mouse 

Dang. Mouse ! Nonsense : don't talk to me about 
mice ; I wish with all my heart she were your wife : 
you would hold very different language, I promise 
you. 

Emily. What is to be done, Edward? this un- 
happy error will but increase the difficulties of our 
situation. 

Freely. Had we not relied on the friendship of 
your good papa, and his pretended influence with 
Mrs. Dangleton — 

Dang. Now don't be intemperate ; takelt coolly, 
and all may yet be remedied. 

Freely. Coolly ! confusion ! 

Dang. Here is a man raving at the idea of missing 
a wife, whilst I am a model of patience — who have 
one. 

Emily. Now, Mr. Dangleton — papa — my dear 
little papa — you know that with a little coaxing you 
may obtain any thing from mamma. Would you 
see me so cruelly sacrificed? — me — Emily — your 
affectionate daughter? 

Freely. Come, Dangleton, you are, after all, the 
properest person to interfere. For once assert your 
authority ; represent to her the folly, the cruelty of 
enchaining youth to age, the 

Dang. Hold, that argument would not be very 
conciliatory; but, let me see — (With firmness.) 
Freely, your hand ; Emily, I'll instantly to your 
mother ; I'll rescue you from the misery of this 
marriage — I'll rescue you, or — as is usual in despe- 
rate adventures — I'll perish in the attempt. 



38 



Enter Trinket.— Seeing Dangleton, she conceals a 

Letter. 

Emily. Well, Trinket, have you heard of our mis- 
fortune ? 

Trin. 'Tis all over the house by this time, Miss. 

Freely. And you, I suppose, have done as much 
to assist your young lady, as my friend here. 

Trin. You have contrived to obtain another inter- 
view with Miss Emily without my assistance, I own ; 
but I have not been idle, for all that. 

Dang. (Aside.) Why, surely 'tis a letter she is con- 
cealing. 

Emily. And what have you been doing for us ? 

Trin. Studying geography, Miss. 

Freely. Studying geography ! 

Trin. I've been picking out the north road on the 
map of England, and packing two trunks ; one for 
myself, and the other (Curtseying) for you, Miss. 

Emily. Say no more, Trinket. (Angrily.) 

Trin. 'Tis as well to be prepared for the worst, 
Miss. 

Dang. What have you there ? 

Trin. A letter, Sir ; but it is not for my mistress, 
so you need not be jealous. No one is going to run 
away with her. 

Dang. No, and be hang'd to it. But if it be ad- 
dressed to me, give it to me. 

Trin. That is the very reason why I must not. 
'Twould be as much as my place is worth to give 
you your letters till she has seen them. (To him). 
Besides, Sir, 'tis written with a crow-quill, and the 
seal is a little cupid. 

Dang. (Imploringly.) Now give me the letter. 

Emily . Give it to him, Trinket, he has promised 
to do wonders for us. 

Trin. There, then ; but don't betray me. 

\_Exit Trinket, Dangleton puts the letter 
into his pocket. 

Freely. And now, Dangleton, our fate is in your 
hands. Remember what you have undertaken. 



39 



Dang. I do, and instantly will I redeem my pledge 
Be here again in a quarter of an hour ; in the interim 
I'll speak to my wife. 

Emily. If you fail us this time — (Aside.) I wonder 
whether Trinket has put my new pelisse into the 
trunk ? 

[Exeunt Freely and Emily. 

Dang, Fail you, no ! The danger of the poor girl 
inspires me with an unwonted courage ; and now, 

Mrs. Dangleton, for once will I teach you 

(Going.) I may as well see what this letter is about. 
Ha ! 'tis from — (Throws himself into a dancing attitude. 
Reads.) " Urn — um — sorry — lament — I have wept, 
knelt, pray'd to him, but in vain — the holder of the 
note you gave me is obdurate — his myrmidons." Ha ! 
a poetical name for bum-bailiffs — " his myrmidons 
are in quest of you : so pray satisfy him without 

delay, and believe me " Here is a pretty piece 

of work ! Should this reach my wife's ears, mercy 
on mine. What's to be done — she alone can assist 
me — but how shall I — no matter — to hesitate would 
be ruin, so not a moment must be lost. 

[Exit Dangleton. 



Scene II. — Another room at Dangleton 's. 

Enter Dangleton. 

Dang. Not here ! (Taps at a door.) Bessy, love. 
How the devil shall I inform her ! And poor 
Freely, who imagines I am now pleading his cause for 
him. However, it cannot be helped : this cursed 
business will admit of no delay. The difficulty will 
be to prevail upon her to pay this, and at the same 
time to keep her ignorant of the real creditor. 
Should she suspect — (A dancing attitude.) She's 
coming. If she be but in good humour! (He sings.) 

" Fly from the world, O Bessy to me, 
" You'll never " 



40 



Enter Mrs.Dangleton. 

Mrs. Dang. What, Alfred, love, singing ! You 
seem in hig hspirits ; this is as I should wish always 
to find you. 

Dang. And you, Bessy? ( He gives her a chair — she 
sits.) 

Mrs. Dang. I was never in better spirits ; every 
thing has succeeded to my desires; Mr. Hardacre 
tells me that Emily has consented. 

Dang. I understand she has consented ; but now, 
between ourselves — (Aside.) She is in her best tem- 
per ; opposition on this subject might irritate her, so 
to my own affairs first. 

Mrs. Dang. Well? go on: what between our- 
selves, dear ? 

Dang. We have been so tormented by visitors to- 
day, we have scarcely had a moment's chat toge- 
ther. 

Mrs. Dang. Well, Alfred, bring a chair, and sit 
by me. 

Dang. I have been thinking, that had we been 
deterred by the nonsensical gossip of the world 

Mrs. Dang. The gossip of the world has no in- 
fluence over sensible minds. We married for our 
own happiness. 

Dang. And the object for which we united our 
fates, how fully have we attained ! What a change 
in one's sentiments— in the very character, I may 
say — is operated by a happy marriage. In my youth 
I was wild, thoughtless, extravagant! No one 
knows what money I squandered, what idle debts I 
contracted. 

Mrs. Dang. There is one who knows something 
about them, Alfred. 

Dang. Ah ! Bessy, had it been my fortunate lot 
to meet you a few years earlier, how many inconsi- 
derate pranks, how many follies, incident to youth 
and inexperience, might have been spared me. 

Mrs. Dang. Well, dear, those are long past; they 
are now forgotten like a feverish dream < Yet, to 



41 

say the truth, Alfred, if all your follies were re- 
corded, they would fill a tolerably well-sized vo- 
lume. 

Dang. Now, suppose, love— merely suppose — I 
had yet matter remaining just sufficient to supply a 
slight appendix. 

Mrs. Dang. How, Sir! 

Dang. I mean nothing of recent date, but still 
forming part of the same interesting period of my 
biography. 

Mrs. Dang. I don't understand you. 

Dang. As you have wisely observed you know 
something about what my debts were ; but suppose 
there were still remaining-- — one, only one 

Mrs. Dang. You need not look to me for the 
means of discharging it. You have a very liberal 
allowance from me, and from that you might have 
contrived 

Dang. But, my love, I have not contrived. 

Mrs. Dang. That is your own fault, Sir. 

Dang. Very well, Mrs. Dangleton ; I won't re- 
proach you, but 1 shall not soon forget this unkind- 
ness. [Turns his back to her. 

Mrs. Dang. Come, now, is it angry ? Come, look 
at me, Alfred. 

Dang. {Aside.) I'll try the effect of a little firm- 
ness. No, Madam, I shall say no more about it, but 
quietly wait the arrival of the — myrmidons. 

Mrs. Dang. How ! and are you in danger of 

Tell me, Alfred, what is the amount of the debt? 

Dang. No, I shall say no more about a paltry 
matter of three hundred guineas. A prison is a 
very pleasant place, I dare say. 

Mrs. Dang. A prison ! Say no more, Alfred, you 
shall have the money. But don't it pout with its 
Bessy ! 

Dang. (Gives his hand.) There, then. 

Mrs. Dang. And is this really the last of your 
debts ? 

Dang. Positively the last. 

Mrs. Dang. Now tell me who is your creditor, 
that I may at once — 

G 



42 

Dang. No, don't ask me that, Bessy. 

Mrs. Dang. I insist upon knowing, or 

Dang. Well, since you are peremptory, I will tell 
you. The creditor is 

Mrs. Dang. Well — quick— who is he ? 

Dang. He? why, dear, it is not exactly a he, 
love 

Mrs. Dang. This is too much ; and, be the con- 
sequences what they may, you shall not have a 
guinea. 

Dang. Shan't I? 

Mrs. Dang. No, Sir. 

Dang. And is that positively your last word, 
Madam ? 

Mrs. Dang. Positively. 

Dang. Very well, Mrs. Dangleton ; since love is 
obdurate, I must fly for relief to friendship. Ay, 
I have friends, I am not destitute of resources ; I 
am not so dependent on you as you may imagine. 
(Aside.) I'll go to this fellow, and entreat his patience 
till I can appease her. [Going to ring. 

Mrs. Dang. What are you going to ring for ? 

Dang. To order the cabriolet. 

Mrs. Dang. You shall not have it. 

Dang. I say I will. 

Mrs. Dang. You shall not. Where do you want 
to go, Sir ? 

Dang. It does not concern you to know, Madam. 
(Aside.) Since submission won't succeed, I may as 
well amuse myself with the airs of independence. 

Mrs. Dang. Is it thus you answer me ? I desire 
you do not quit the house. 

Dang. This tyranny is no longer to be endured. 
Not only I will quit the house, but hang me, Jezebel, 
if ever I enter it again. 

[Exit Dangleton, slamming the door violently. 

Mrs. Dang. O, I shall expire ; I am dying. (Af- 
fects to faint, and presently starts up.) What ! and is 
he really gone ? Am I awake ! He who has hitherto 
been so docile, so submissive ! To treat me thus ! 
me, (Rings the bell violently) who have ever been the 



43 

tenderest of wives. (Rings.) The mildest ! (Rings.) 
The most gentle ! Will the wretches let me die for 
want of assistance ? 

Enter Trinket, weeping. 

So, Mrs. Minx, you are come at last. Where is 
Mr. Dangleton? Is he gone out? 

Trin. O, Ma'am, don't ask me ! Such a scene as 
it was ! 

Mrs. Dang. What does the girl mean ? Speak. 

Trin. O, Ma'am, my master had scarcely passed 
the street-door, when two men, who had been a long 
time lurking about, tapped him on the shoulder, 
said something about arrest, and away they hurried 
him across the square. 

Mrs. Dang. O, my poor dear Alfred ! and 'tis my 
cruelty has occasioned this. And have I no friend 
here to assist, to counsel me ? Where is my intended 
son-in-law, Mr. Hardacre? 

Trin. Below, in the parlour, Ma'am, but he can't 
move : the poor old gentleman saw the whole pro- 
ceeding, and it gave him such a turn that he was 
seized with a fit of the cramp. 

Mrs. Dang. Will no one come to my assistance ! 

Enter Freely and Emily. 

Emily. We are here, mamma. 

Freely. Don't be alarmed, Madam ; speak but the 
word, and I'll fly to the Antipodes to serve you. 
(Aside.) A lucky event for me, so 111 make the most 
of it. 

Mrs. Dang. Oh ! Sir, how shall I thank you ? You 
have heard of this dreadful occurrence ? 

Freely. I was a witness to it. Poor Dangleton ! as 
they hurried him away, tears of tenderness started 
into his eyes, and pressing my hand, he exclaimed, 
" My Bessy is unkind, so welcome, now, my dun- 
geon ." 

Mrs. Dang. A dungeon ! Pray accompany me, 



44 

Mr. Freely ; ray jewels, my last guinea— all shall be 
his. 

Freely. Fortunately, Mr. Hardacre's carriage is at 
the door, — allow me to attend you, and I'll answer 
for his instantaneous release. 

Mrs. Dang. You are a friend, indeed, Mr. Freely. 

[Exeunt Omnes. 



END OF THE SECOND ACT, 



43 



ACT III. 

Scene L — A Room at a Springing House. 

Dangleton, Reckless, Gloomy, and others, dis- 
covered at a table , drinking. 

Dang, at the head of the table, is singing, 

" Then, for this reason, 
And for a season, 
Let us be merry 
Before we go." 

AIL Bravo! bravo! 

Gloomy. (Repeats in a melancholy tone) " Let us be 
merry before we go." 

Dang. Why, zounds, Gloomy, are you for convert- 
ing my song into a funeral dirge ? 

Gloomy. 'Tis very well for you, who have a rich 
old wife to get you out, to sing about going ; but 
when I go hence my prospect won't be much im- 
proved. 

Reck. Silence, Kill-joy: is it a time to remind a 
man of his wife when he's inclined to be merry ? 

Dang. Merry ! I have not been so merry for many a 
day. Master ! and doing the honours of my own table ! 
(Calls.) Another bottle of champagne ! — Meeting 
so many old acquaintances, and in this place too ! 'Tis 
the " form and cause conjoined :" hang me if I should 
relish your society half as well any where else; it re, 
minds me of former times. 

Gloomy. Well, I don't profess to be enchanted 
with the scene of our revels ; the sight of those iron, 
bars is a check to the freedom of my spirit, as they 
are to the liberty of my person. 

Dang. Sink the iron-bars ! They are not placed 
there to prevent a set of jolly fellows from getting 



46 

out, man: they are the guardians of our jovial pri- 
vacy, and hinder dull dogs from getting in. Come, 
fill, Gloomy, fill. 

Gloomy. Here's confusion to the scoundrel that 
placed me here ! But I'll be revenged ; I'll with- 
draw my custom from him. 

Dang. Hang the cur ; he deserves severer punish- 
ment than that. 

Gloomy. What shall I do ? 

Dang. Be his customer still. 

All. {Laugh.) Ha! ha! ha! 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. A Mr. Freely will be glad to see you, Sir. 

Dang. What, my friend Freely ! Fresh glasses 
and another bottle ! and request Mr. Freely to walk 
up. (Exit Servant.') Now, gentlemen, you shall 
know one of the best fellows in town. 

Enter Freely. 

Freely, you are welcome. These gentlemen are old 
friends of mine ; Mr. Reckless, Mr. Gloomy. 

Freely. (Boivs.) Dangleton, a word with you. 

Dang. Not a syllable will I listen to that issues 
from dry lips. Come, Freely, here I am at home ; 
you shall find that the fire of hospitality and good- 
fellowship, that used to blaze in my bosom, though 
for awhile concealed, is not extinguished. Come, 
here is your seat ; to the right of the president, my 
boy. 

Freely. (Aside.) Ha! ha! ha! And his poor wife, 
who imagines him overwhelmed by grief and despair ! 
— You must excuse me ; I am in haste, and shall be 
glad to speak with you in private. 

Dang. Well, as you please. This is a devilish 
pleasant house ; but, as it does not abound in anti- 
chambers and private committee-rooms, perhaps, 
gentlemen, you will do me the favour to retire for a 
few minutes. (As they are going.) If you quit the 
house before we have finished our wine, I am your 



47 
• 
foe for ever. [Exeunt Reckless, Gloomy, 8$c. 
Well, how goes on your negotiation with Emily ? 

Freely. Ah ! don't talk of that : but, if I had not 
been more zealous in your service than I have found 
you in mine 

Dang. You don't know what I should have done 
for you, had it not been for this interruption. But, 
I say ; ha ! ha ! ha ! where is the Dragon of 
Wantley ? 

Freely. The what ? 

Dang. How did my wife take the news of my 
captivity ? 

Freely. Shocked and grieved at it, as you may 
suppose. She drove here with me, but the sight of 
the bars, and the idea of your sufferings, were too 
much for her nerves, so she is gone home again, and 
has left the care of your liberation to me. 

Dang. Liberation ! pooh ! what do you mean ? 

Freely. That you are going away with me. 

Dang. Home to my wife ? Not I : no, no ; hav- 
ing regained my liberty, I'll not so easily resign it : 
I'll go to prison. 

Freely. Are you mad ? 

Dang. No ; I'm recovering my senses. 

Freely. Nonsense! Mrs. Dangleton has signed a 
blank cheque on her banker ; I have only to write 
in the amount of the sum you are detained for, 
and 

Dang. Give it to me, I'll fill it up for a thousand ; 
and if I go out, the whole party shall go along with 
me. 

Freely. No, I am responsible to her for what I 
have undertaken ; so, come along. 

Dang. Not without my friends ; I never desert 
my friends, you know. 

Freely. Well, do as you please ; I shall say no 
more. I shall go down stairs, discharge your debt, 
and leave you to stay or go, as you choose. 

Dang. Well, do you go home, comfort Mrs. D., 
bless her old soul, and tell her I'm coming; but I 
must rejoin my party. 

Freely. Will you come soon ? 



48 



Dang. The moment they grow stupid I'll cut 
them ; that will not be very long. Now gentlemen, 
I am your's again. Reckless, Gloomy ! 

[Exeunt severally. 



Scene II. — At Dangleton's. 
Enter Emily and Trinket. 

Emily. Came home alone, do you say ? 

Trin. Alone, Miss; and weeping, poor old 
lady, as if her heart would break: 

Emily. Where then can Edward be ? and poor 
Mr. Dangleton ? 

Trin. Poor Mr. Dangleton, indeed ! poor Mrs. 
Dangleton ! Her fate ought to serve you as a warn- 
ing, Miss; you see what it is to marry a young 
man ! But Mr. Hardacre, now, a respectable, well- 
behaved, steady old gentleman 

Emily. Don't speak of him ; I was beginning to 
think well of him ; but, since I have discovered the 
fatal mistake, his very name is odious to me : yet 
how to avoid him I know not ; for my mother, 
having once resolved on this marriage, will maintain 
her point out of the pure spirit of obstinacy. What 
road, what road, am I to take, Trinket ? 

Trin. A young lady of spirit ask what road ! 
Why, the high north road, as I told you before. 

Emily. Trinket! {With a sign of admonition.} — 
Well, Edward? 

Enter Freely. 

Where is Mr. Dangleton ? 

Freely. He'll return ere long. 

Emily. I am delighted at that. Poor fellow ! Im- 
prisonment must be so dreadful ! Didn't you find 
him wretchedly dejected ? 



49 

Freely. Don't remind me of it. But tell me, * 
where is your mother ? 

Trin. She's waiting in great anxiety. — Ah ! here 
she is. 

Enter Mrs. Dangleton. 

Mrs. Dang. Where is he ? where is he ? How is 
this, Mr. Freely? Haven't you brought my Alfred 
with you ? 

Freely. Why, Ma'am, (Aside.) — What the devil shall 
I say as an excuse ? — I have not positively brought 
him with me ; but he will not be long absent : there 
are certain little forms to go through on such occa- 
sions, and he is engaged in their fulfilment. 

Mrs. Dang. How can I thank you, Sir! But pray 
pardon the inquiries of an anxious wife. Tell me, 
how did you find him ? 

Emily. Pray, mamma, don't ask : Mr. Freely 
can't bear to be reminded of it. 

Mrs. Dang. Poor Alfred ! Sad, gloomy, melan- 
choly ! 

Freely. Ah, Ma'am ! You have seen the picture 
of Ugolino in his cell, or of Baron Trenck ! 

Mrs. Dang, And I to be the cruel cause of this ! 
(^4. loud knocking at the door.) Ha ! 'tis he. 

Freely. (Aside.) I shall be much astonished, then. 

Mrs. Dang. Emily, my love, support me — Mr. 
Freely — ~ He is restored to me ! — This poor heart 
of mine ! — Lead me into the drawing-room : — no, 
remain here. — I will spare you the pain of witnessing 
so heart-rending an interview as this must be. 

[Exit Mrs. Dangleton. 

Freely. Now that I am somewhat in favour with 
your mother, the moment this heart-rending inter- 
view is concluded, Pll boldly propose for you, and 
if she refuse her consent — 

Emily. She will, she will. 

Freely. Tf my rival were a young man, our differ- 
ences would speedily be settled; as it is by 

the bye, what is become of him ? 

Trin. He's fast asleep in the dining-room, Sir. I 

H 




50 

made him swallow a goblet full of peppermint for 
his cramp, and he has been snoring there ever since. 
Sir, if he could be prevailed on to reject Miss Emily, 
the main difficulty would be removed. 

Freely. Reject her ! and who that has eyes sus- 
ceptible of beauty's influence — 

Trin. Eyes at sixty ! Nonsense, Sir, talk of spec- 
tacles. However, I think my hint ought not to be 
disregarded. 

Emily. Upon one point, Edward, I am resolved. 
Although I will marry no one without my mother's 
consent, no power on earth shall force me to marry 
Mr. Hardacre. No, never. 

Freely. Never. 

Trin. Never. 

Enter Hardacre. 

Hard. Never ! Never what, I wonder ? — Miss 
Emily, I fear you will think me a negligent wooer ; 
but the truth is, I fell into a sound sleep, and had 
it not been for that loud knocking just now 

Emily. I can't bear to look at him. 

Hard. But may I request an explanation of that 
" Never ?" 

[Emily withdraws her hand, which he has taken, 
sighs , and Exit. 
Nothing can be more intelligible. 

Freely. (Aside.) I'll leave the room, or I may lose 
my temper, and forget myself. 

Hard. Mr. Freely, perhaps you could explain 

Freely. Sir, I [Sighs, and exit. 

Hard. Distinct and satisfactory in the highest 
degree, O, Mrs. Trinket, I have had a specimen 
or two of your talent at reply. Pray, now, can you 
tell me what they meant by 

Trin. (Sighs, and is going.) And now, Sir, if you 
betray the confidence we have reposed in you, you 
will be acting very unlike a gentleman. 

Hard. Considering the information I have re- 
ceived, I don't know what I shall be acting like if 
I do. But come, I must have a word with you 



51 

One of the guineas I gave you this morning, was to 
bribe you to tell me the truth. Did you so ? 

Trin. Tell the truth — for a guinea! I'm ashamed of 
you, Sir. Though I am a mere— house-maid — in this 
family, truth is a quality for which I entertain the 
deepest veneration ; I should blush to set so light a 
value upon it — as a guinea. 

Hard. Well, I believe it may be classed amongst 
the rare luxuries of life ; and must be paid for accord- 
ingly. What, now, if I give you ten ? 

Trin. Ten guineas for the truth ? Well, Sir, as 
you have already been a customer — (He gives a 
note.) — Guineas, guineas, guineas. Luxuries are 
always paid for in guineas. 

Hard. (Draws his purse and gives a piece of money.') 
Now, then, the truth, the absolute truth. 

Trin. The very best I can afford you at the price. 
Hard. You told me your young lady's heart was 
not engaged, 

Trin. You need not shake your head, for that is 
true. 

Hard. Not engaged ? 
Trin. No — I meant—not to you. 
Hard. A-hem ! Who is that Mr. Freely? 
Trin. I know no more of him than you do, Sir. 
He never was in this house till to-day. 

Hard. (Aside.) That's well again. — Yet he ap- 
pears to be on — friendly — terms with your young 
lady? 

Trin. That's natural enough, Sir. When her aunt 
was living at Bath, (pointedly) they were in the 
habit of meeting every day for a very considerable 
time. 

Hard. Oh ! Then she is in love ? 
Trin. You had better be explicit, this time, for 
fear of another misunderstanding. With whom do 
you mean ? 

Hard. Not myself. 
Trin. A-hem ! 

Hard. (Rather angrily.) Why, then, I must say 
this has been a very extraordinary proceeding on the 
part of your young lady. Come, Trinket, be her 



t friend and mine too. Tell me all you know about 

this affair. She positively consented to marry mes 
exclaimed, " How happy this will make my dear 
Edward !"— 

Trin. 'Twas all a mistake, Sir. 'Twasn't this 
Edward she meant : she thought you were speaking 
of the other Edward. 

Hard. Then he expects to marry her ? 

Trin. How can he, Sir, when it is settled by- 
Mrs. Dangleton that you are to be the happy swain ? 

Hard. Speak out, girl, or you'll make me angry. 
Emily expects to marry him ? 

Trin. She can't, Sir ; (Looks at him from top to 
toe.) at least, for these two or three years, or so. 

Hard. What — what — what do you mean by these 
two or three years, or so ? 

Trin. Why, Sir, though there is not a chance of 
her loving you, I'm sure she would respect your 
memory too much to marry again within the first 
year of her widowhood. 

Hard. Go about your business, girl, and never let 
me hear your dismal voice again. 

Trin. (Aside.) I hope I have given him truth 
enough for his money ; and if now he be not the 
first to break the bargain with my mistress, he is a 
more silly old gentleman than I take him to be. 

[Exit. 

Hard. I wish somebody were here to knock my 
stupid old head off my shoulders. I can't be satis- 
fied with listening to agreeable falsehoods, as other 
folks are, but I must pay my money to get at the 
disagreeable truth. Now, what ought I to do? I've 
told all my acquaintance that I should bring home a 
young wife with me, and I shall be cruelly laughed 
at if I don't. (Going.) Yet, hold ! — Widowhood is 
running in her head. We shall be living in a lone 
country house ; and who knows but on one of those 
long, dark winter nights, she may cut my throat, or 
poison me ; and there is that devil Trinket ready to 
prepare the cup. No matter ; I'm resolved— I'll 
marry her, and take the risk of all the consequences 
of my folly. [Exit Hard acre. 



53 

Sckne III. A Drawing-room at Dangl Eton's. 
Mrs. Dangl eton discovered. 

Mis. Dang. What can be the cause of this ? 
At home nearly a quarter of an hour, and not yet 
come to me ! Doubtless, like me, he is overpowered 

by his feelings, and waits till Hush ! I think I 

hear him! Yes, 'tis he ! Let me compose myself for 
the trying scene. 

Enter Dangleton, flushed with wine. Speaks as he 
comes on. 

Dang. I'll never forgive them — never forgive 
them, that's certain. Every maid-servant in the 
house came to welcome my return, but Trinket 
did 'nt — and Emily did 'nt — never forgive them. 

Mrs. Dang. Alfred, speak to me. 

Dang. Ah, my dear,— Bessy, my love, we meet 
again, and I am happy. (Aside.) Happy, did I say? 
— I'm afraid I'm very drunk. 

Mrs. Dang. Your joy at our re-union cannot 
equal mine. 

Dang. It does, it does. Who would not be happy 
with such a wife? — Such a wife ! a blessing to me ! 
I'm the happiest man in England. (Aside.) Yes, I 
must be very drunk. 

Mrs. Dang. Why, what ails him ; his sufferings 
at that dreadful place have surely affected his head. 
Alfred, my love, be composed ; you are at home, 
with your Bessy : here, take a seat. 

Dang. No, I can stand very well. Now, Bessy, 
I'll appeal to you ; they all come to welcome my 
return— from the cook to the nursery -maid — no, we 
have no nursery-maid; — yet Trinket, who is the 
prettiest girl in the house— a devilish deal the 
prettiest girl — except Emily 

Mrs. Dang. How is this — he is delirious ! Alfred, 
do you recollect in whose presence you are ? Your 
wife— 

Dang. My wife, capital wife ! She is too good a 
wife for me ; — I don't deserve her. I wish, with all 



54 

my heart, she were some other man's wife ! — I don't 
think Pm so very drunk, either. 

Mrs. Dang. But tell me, Alfred, torn from me as 
you were, and thrown into a melancholy prison, you 
must have suffered much. 

Dang. Torn from you — there was the blow — 
suffered torments, tortures, martyrdom 

Mrs. Dang. Poor dear ! 

Dang. Tortures— but I'll never forgive Trinket. 

Mrs. Dang. Well ; that is all past ; but let it serve 
you as a warning for the rest of your life. 

Dang. It shall — shall — no more debts — never 
again ; but now I don't owe a shilling — and I'm a 
happy man — not a shilling do I owe ; there 's a wife 
for you. 

Mrs. Dang. But you must be fatigued, and need 
refreshment. Dinner has been delayed till your 
return, and now 

Dang. Dinner! Damn dinner, my darling! I've 
dined. 

Mrs. Dang. Dined! Impossible! Where could 
you have dined ? 

Dang. In the house of woe ! In the house of 
sorrow and lamentation. Myself and a few other 
unhappy captives 

Mrs. Dang. Why then this must be the effect of 
— but no, he would not dare. Tell me ; have you 
been drinking? 

Dang. Trinket! — I tell you I'll never forgive 
Trinket; every body in the house came to welcome 
me 

Mrs. Dang. You have been drinking, Sir. 

Dang. Nothing but wine, Bessy ; 'pon my honour, 
nothing but wine. Separated from you — from the 
best of wives, my thoughts — my mind 

Mrs. Dang. Then, in the midst of your troubles, 
you thought of me, Alfred ? 

Dang. I did ; so I was obliged to drink, to drive 
away disagreeable recollections. But where is 
Trinket? She shall make me some strong coffee, 
and then I'll forgive her, 

Mrs. Dang. Alfred ! 

Dang. Never mind me 5 you are the best of wives, 



55 

so do you go to dinner : I'll join you at wine. I shall 
be glad of a glass of wine to drink to the happiness 
of Mr. and Mrs. Freely. 

Mrs. Dang. Mr. and Mrs. who ? 

Dang. What ! have not I told you ? — No, I didn't 
tell you ; I remember now, you were to be kept in 
the dark— that was settled^— keep the old one in the 
dark ; — but I've promised my friend Freely he shall 
have her, and he shall have her. 

Mrs. Dang. Astonishment ! 

Dang. Astonishment ! not in the least. Ha ! ha! ha ! 
Why you don't suppose I'd suffer my pretty Emily 
to be sacrificed ! My vanity would not let me ! 
Ha! ha! ha! Couldn't think of being father-in-law 
to old Daddy Hardacre. 

Mrs. Dang. So, Sir, the introduction of Mr. Freely 
here, was a planned thing ? 

Dang. No matter for that ! She shan't be sacri- 
ficed. Marry her grandfather — they'll both be miser- 
able. When a young man marries an old No 

offence, my chicken — I mean, when a young woman 
marries an old man, it can only be for the sake of his 
money — there can be no love in the case. 

Mrs. Dang. Do I dream ? 

Dang. I'll get some strong coffee, and then I'll 
tell you all about it. 'Gad, I'll follow my friend 
Reckless's advice ; I ought to be master, and master 
I'll be. 'Tis capital advice — but you are a capital 
wife, and shan't be flurried. Trinket, — III have some 
coffee. (Going). 

Mrs. Dang. I desire, Sir. 

Dang. Don't flurry yourself— stay where you are 
~Ha! ha! ha !— Dragon of Wan tley. 

Enter Hardacre. 

Hard. (To Dang, who staggers against him.) Bless 
me, Mr. Dangleton ! 

Dang. Hardacre, you are a capital fellow, and 
we'll have some snooting together ; but you shan't 
marry Emily— shan't make a fool of yourself. At 

your age ! That would have been the wife for 

you, and a capital wife she is. Never forgive myself 



56 

for depriving you of the chance of such a wife. Ha! 
ha! ha! Dragon of Wantley. [Exit Dangleton. 

Hard. What is the cause of all this ? Shan't marry 
Emily ! Shan't make a fool of myself ! 

Mrs. Dang. O Mr. Hardacre ! you see before you 
the most unhappy of women ! The monster ! So to 
have deceived me! I, who thought him so affec- 
tionate, so obedient ! 1 can hardly speak the words. 
He has dared to insinuate — almost to avow — that 
marrying me — at my age — 'twas not from affection, 
but for my fortune alone. The hypocrite, Mr. Hard- 
acre, the hypocrite! 

Hard. Hypocrite ! If he really awowed that, Ma- 
dam, I must give him credit for being as plain-spoken 
a young gentleman as ever I had the honour of being 
acquainted with. 

Mrs. Dang. Even if he have stifled the voice of 
affection in his heart, ought he not, at least, to obey 
the dictates of gratitude? 

Hard. Ah ! Mrs. Dangleton. where Nature has 
ordained that the bond of union shall be love, I fear 
that gratitude will prove but a frail and treacherous 
substitute. But did you not lately assure me that 
ypu were as happy as the days are long ? (Looks 
at his watch.) If that be your standard, I'll be hanged 
if Mr. Dangleton has given you, what I should call, 
honest measure to-day. 

Mrs. Dang. O, Sir! I never have been, never 
can be happy with him. When he is absent I am 
uneasy — jealous ; when present, his ill-concealed im- 
patience of restraint, tells me but too distinctly his 
happiness is centred — not in me. 

Hard. I came to speak with you upon a very dif- 
ferent subject ; but you have drawn so flattering a 
picture of what may reasonably be expected from 
a marriage between parties whose ages are not 
exactly within a year or two of each other 

Mrs. Dang. Your's is a very different case ; be- 
sides, Sir, it see,ms we have been made the dupes of 
Mr. Dangleton and this friend of his. 

Hard. So 1 had partly discovered. 

Mrs. Dang. But they shall not enjoy their ima- 
ginary triumph long. Emily shall be your's ; we 



57 

have settled the point between ourselves, and Mr 
Dangleton shall yet see who is mistress. 

Dangleton without. 

Out of the house, rascal. 
Mrs. Dang. What do I hear ? 

Enter Dangleton, (Somewhat recovered from his 
intoxication, but still elevated.) 

Dang. Dare to tell me I am not his master ! 

Mrs. Dang. Mr. Dangleton, if you have not yet 
recovered your senses, you had better retire. 

Dang. I am quite sober now — as sober as I ever 
wish to be. — Some of Trinket's good coffee has set 
me to rights. But I'll discharge every one of the 
scoundrels. — I'll reform the whole establishment. 

Mrs. Dang. You forget, Sir, that you are in my 
house. 

Dang. Your house, Bessy, love ? My house, my 
servants, my carriages, my fortune ! The house is 
mine, and every thing in it, {with a sigh,) wife in- 
cluded. 

Mrs. Dang. Incredible insolence ! Your's ? 

Dang. Mine, mine, mine ! Till this hour, the 
inventory of my wealth, like a magic writing, pre- 
sented a mere blank ; I have steeped it in Cham- 
pagne, and now every item of it is clear, apparent, 
legible, palpable ; and may the devil encumber the 
property with ten wives more if I don't enjoy it. 

Hard. (Aside.) A promising example for me. 

Mrs. Dang. O ! I shall faint. 

Dang. You shan't ! 'Tis the old resource, I 
know ; but, henceforth, I'll allow of no fainting in 
my house, so faint at your peril ; for not a chair of 
mine shall you have to support you, not one of my 
servants shall dare come to your assistance. Aye, 
madam, my servants ; for I'll re-model the house- 
hold, I'll have a fresh set, not one of these shall 
remain here another day, not one of them— only 

i 



58 , 

Trinket ; for Trinket is a pretty girl, and she makes 
good coffee. 

Mrs. Dang. Ungrateful monster ! this, and at the 
very moment when I have restored yon to liberty ! 

Dang. And the fittest moment too ; for my con- 
duct shall convince you that I know how to use it. 
You gave me liberty that I might revel in the joys 
which only liberty can bring, and I'll do honour to 
your present, my darling Bessy. 

Mrs. Dang. This may be very well, Sir ; but let 
me remind you that I am still mistress here. 

Dang. You shall be mistress, my gentle Bessy : 
you shall controul the cook, govern the housemaids, 
and take the head of my table whenever 1 give din- 
ners to my old friends and associates, as I intend to 
do three times a week the season through. You 
shall be mistress, but I'll be master : more than this 
no good wife should desire ; nor more than this 
should any prudent husband grant. 

Mrs. Dang. I can bear it no longer. Was it to 
place a tyrant near me I raised you from penury to 
riot in the sudden luxuries of wealth ? nay, taught 
you the unknown comforts of a home 1 Since I 
must speak, tell me, Sir, but for my fortune what 
had you now been ? 

Dang. Fortune ! Breathe but that word again, 
and may my name become a bye-word and a jest, 
and my fate be remembered as a warning to every 
desperate undone dandy, but I'll spend one half the 
accursed, the dearly-purchased fortune, in obtaining 
a divorce, and— ha ! ha ! ha ! — I'll marry Trinket 
with the other. 

Hard. Mr. Dangleton — Madam, a thousand pardons 
for interfering; I have been an unwilling, though an 
edified, spectator of this scene, and I must say 

Dang. (With mock gravity, interrupting him.) 
How is this, Mr. Hardacre ! Is it to me you speak ? 
Me, who am soon to be your father-in-law ! Tell 
me, young man, is this a specimen of the duty and 
veneration I am to expect from you ? 

Hard. Enjoy your jest, you .are welcome to it. 




59 



Tis better you should laugh at old Hardacre to-day 
for the fool he might have been, than pity him to- 
morrow for the fool he would have been. My dear 
Mrs. Dangleton, from what I have just now wit- 
nessed, I — I — 

Mrs. Dang. Well, Sir ? 

Hard. Why, Ma'am, when I consented to enlist 
into the ranks of matrimony, I had considered only 
the honours without calculating upon the dangers 
of the service : but (Looking slyly at them), since I 
have smelt powder, I own I do not feel much heart 
to mingle in the fray. 

Mrs. Dang. I understand you, Sir : you refuse to 
marry my daughter ? 

Dang. Refuse her ! to be sure he does : say the 
word, my venerable Nestor ; say it boldly, my ante- 
diluvian. What could you expect from marrying a 
girl animated with the fire of nineteen ? 

Hard. Little but the smoke, I fear. 

Mrs. Dang. Mr. Hardacre is master of his own 
actions, but my daughter's are under my controul ; 
she cannot marry without my consent. 

Dang. Your consent, my pretty Bessy ! what has 
your consent to do with the matter ? I repeat that 
I am master of this house, and every thing in it. 
Freely and Emily are in the house ; ergo, I can dis- 
pose of them along with the other moveables ; and 
here they come, that I may at once prove the sound- 
ness of my logic. 

Enter Freely and Emily. 

Emily, my dear, 'tis all settled ; you are to be mar- 
ried at last. 

Emily. O, mamma, and could you be so cruel? 

Hard. Don't be miserable, Miss Emily 5 it is not 
me you are to make happy. 

Mrs. Dang, (to Freely.) You have attempted to 
deceive me, Sir, but the attempt shall not succeed. 
Should Emily marry contrary to my wishes, she has 
nothing, not a guinea, to expect. 

Freely. Herself is the only treasure I have ever 



60 

coveted: do you, Madam, sanction our union, and 
you make me rich beyond the wealth of worJds. 

Hard. Come, Mrs. Dangleton, let me, his rival, 
intercede in their favour. I have a special interest 
in seeing them united ; to that it will come one of 
these days, and I had much rather the young gen- 
tleman should marry my bride than my widow. 

Mrs. Dang. I will not listen to it, Sir. 

Hard. Now, consider if, after all, I should make 
Emily Mrs. Hardacre, by the same act I make you 
my mother ; and I should hold myself bound in 
duty to call you mamma for the rest of my life. 

Mrs. Bang. O, the horrid idea ! 

Dang. (2o Freely.) You'll find this must be my 
work at last. Bessy, love, Bessy, let me, your 
Alfred, intercede for them. 

Mrs. Dang. Sir, I 

Dang. Bessy, dear (lohispering, but in a deter- 

mined to?w.) Consent, my darling, or I swear by the 
head of every proctor in the Commons, I'll sue out a 
divorce to-morrow. — Come, love, can you refuse 
your Alfred ? 

Mrs. Dang. Well, at your entreaty Take her, 

Mr. Freely. 

Hard. 'Tis well done. And now, having got rid 
of the plagues of love, let all my others, the plagues 
of law, go with them. Emily, in your favour I 
abandon my claims to the property in dispute, and 
I dare say you will not be very angry though I do 
not still make it a condition, that you accept the 
plaintiff in the cause into the bargain. 

Emily. O, Mr. Hardacre, this generosity 

Hard. I had forgot there is one condition. 

(To Freely.) Since the property is not to descend 
to a little Master Hardacre, promise me that I shall 
stand godfather to your first boy. 

Freely. That you shall, Sir. 

Dang. There is a reward for you, rriy old boy. 
Godfather ! What more could you expect ? 

Hard. Nothing. I am amply rewarded. 

Mrs. Dang. Now, Alfred, let us quit London for 
ever. 



61 

Dang. No, not for ever ; that would be folly. 
Why should we shun society? As Mrs. Dangleton, 
with her husband, we have hitherto been the objects 
of its ridicule and pity ; let us henceforth learn to 
respect each other, and Mr. Dangleton and his wife 
may claim their due share of respect from the 
world. 

Hard. Right, Mr. Dangleton. 

Mrs. Dang. I perceive my error, and acknow- 
ledge it. The abuse of a presumed authority would 
soon have made me hateful to you, as your longer 
submission to it must have rendered you contempti- 
ble — even to myself. The wife who is, in any way, 
accessory to her husband's degradation, forfeits her 
own highest claim to respect, her own best hope of 
happiness. 

Hard. Right again. So may you all be as happy 
(Jo Freely and Emily) as love — and (very pointedly to 
Mr. and Mrs. Dang.) — respect — can make you/ 



THE END, 



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